We Hate Zombies

Scenerio:
Everyone’s eyes are on you. Even the guy running the spotlight can’t get you out of his sight. You and your girl are putting everyone else on the dance floor to shame. Nobody can believe what they are seeing because it is so incredible. How could a woman so smok’n hot end up with a goober like you? Luckily for you, those tight jeans are doing all the talking, which gives you more time to scope out the zombie stumbling out of the stairwell over by the fat chick making out with the dessert table. Wait, there’s dessert?

What you should do:
First and foremost, spin your woman like tomorrow isn’t coming (We know its coming, but it might be a zombie sunrise). Spin her until she throws up on something. It makes her less hot and much less vulnerable. Once you’ve done that, its time for action because the zombie has already attacked the fat chick. Her natural body armor lengthens the attack, slowing the zombie progress, but not for long.

Time is of the essence. Quickly find a lighter and set the punch ablaze (you know what you did). Tip the table over so the liquid fire flows toward the zombie and its fleshy dessert. If you are fortunate enough to catch them both on fire, your job is done. Hell, even if you catch the fat chick on fire, your job is done (If only the sun would burn so bright). Most likely, however, the punch will not get the job done.

Clear the room. This part should be easy on account of the liquid fire, as not everyone is real quick to catch on unless its fire. Try to round them up quickly and safely. If the fire is going to consume them, let it happen because only humanity has to gain from it. Once the room is clear, accelerate the fire with some of Uncle Jemima’s pure mashed liquor and get the hell out. The police and firemen should be warned about infectious materials when they arrive, then leave the cleanup to the professionals.

What I would do:
Dancing, huh? Nope. I’m the guy standing next to the fat chick, making love to the dessert table wishing a zombie would come and bite your face off just so I could kill you without the police pushing their moral values onto me. I don’t know why, but dancing just doesn’t go well with my personality. I don’t know if it’s my ability to be a badass, my lack of ability to cry during movies like P.S. I Love You, or the fact that my vagina was turned inside out when I was born and it ripped my ovaries out along with about a foot of my large intestine (get it?) that make me want to kill zombies instead of dance, but here we are.¹

The zombie stumbles into the room and begins nibbling on the fat chick next to me. It goes unnoticed at first because of the sheer enormity of this woman, plus the awesomeness of the cake, but eyesight is not the only thing I rely on. Something known as the zombie sense starts to tingle and the dominoes start to fall. My first move is to neutralize the initial threat by promptly removing his head with a tube of play doh and a toothpick (figure it out). By this time, the woman is a zombie now, a very large zombie. This makes for a more formidable foe, but by using a special type of karate, I create an air missile (a missile created with nothing but air), thus exploding the head of the zombie with enormous girth. The world isn’t saved, but it’ll wake up for at least one more day.

¹ Matt doesn’t get it.

Scenario:
Your recent battle with General’s chicken has taken a turn for the worse. Despite your iron stomach, you couldn’t have anticipated the chicken was a Trojan horse, going down sweet and sexy but releasing the forces of salmonella on your unsuspecting bowels. The Chinese have struck again, and now you’re in the hospital waiting for your chance in the E.R. Everything was going simply awful until some sick bastard cut in front of you complaining of a bite wound and a bad headache. Too bad they were slurring so much the nurse couldn’t understand, but you did. Zombie. What do you do?

What you should do:
This is another one of those bad spots in which you pretty much know there are other zombies outside. You’re lucky enough to catch on to that fact before they catch on to your thigh, but it might not mean much in the end. Nevertheless, you have to survive one battle at a time if you’re to survive the great war of the undead.

Too bad you’re throwing up, thirsty as hell, and look as bad as the next dead guy. That’s going to make it rough to survive, and to be honest, if the food sickness is bad enough I wouldn’t be surprised if someone else in the room thought you were the zombie and took action. It wouldn’t be the first time someone like me “saved the world” by taking care of a “potential” “zombie.” Did I black out at the time? Maybe. Did it keep me from kicking ass? It helped. Did I have a raging chubby at the time? No comment.

First off, you’re not going to get anywhere by leaving or running out by yourself because you’ll still be sick. The bad thing about salmonella isn’t that it’s going to kill you (probably), but that it’s going to take you out of the game, which is basically the same as killing you in this case. Sure, if you have a friend with you, you can commence the leaving operation. Otherwise, things get a little tricky. Try hitting on the nurse, or any woman in the room. If you’re lucky, they’ll have a cabin in a secluded area far away from the city and a hot physique. You’ll have to act fast because the pre-zombie at the desk isn’t going to be alive long, so don’t get caught up on any one pick-up line.

If that doesn’t work, steal a wheel chair and book it for the county line. Other options would include following the pre-zombie into the E.R., then locking him in a bathroom, or finding a few bottles of water and locking yourself in a closet. Just FYI, that last option really isn’t a good one. Zombies in an abandoned hospital? Creepy.

What I would do:
Slam a Gatorade, shoot up on penicillin, and flex until I’m cured, then pump the pre-zombie full of muscle relaxants I stole from the pharmacy while the clerk was cleaning up my piss. The muscle relaxants should easily dominate the heart of said enemy, thereby making an instant zombie, but the beauty is that the zombie will have no control over its muscles and will be helpless and harmless. Options here would include knocking out the teeth and taking the head as a Chia pet or crushing the brain with heavy hospital equipment.

After using the defib’ to set the body on fire, I’d steal a wheel chair and book it to the county line, which is a code word for my house. There, the real battle against sickness will begin.

Scenario:
You’re sitting in a Wal-Mart bathroom stall with bowels full of muck. You just barely made it, but you lucked out with a seat someone’s pissed clean of foulness. With your pants around your ankles, you’re sighing with relief when someone comes in to the stall next to you and vomits. Blood. On the floor. You lift your sneakers as it begins to pool on your side of the wall. They grunt and start moaning; you know they’re a zombie. That’s when you fart-spray. It’s nasty, and now the zombie knows you’re there. What do you do?

What you should do:
You’re caught at your weakest without an anal bum cover in sight. This will be rough, but you’re going to have to be a champ and pinch off whatever’s hanging out. There’s no time to wipe or wait for dingleberries to fall to the ground, no time even to fart again. Ignore that cramping in your lower gut and pull those pants back into position.¹ It’s time to run.

It’s possible that the zombie is locked in the bathroom stall, but this fact will barely slow the zombie down as it rips ass after you. Sure, it’s probably not going to move any faster than a heavy cloud of vaporized poo, but you never know until you know, and sometimes knowing is too risky.² All of this is a warning to avoid false senses of security; just because the zombie is behind the wall doesn’t mean you won’t find him attached to your ankle or sticking to your shoe.

After safely escaping the chambers of the great porcelain throne, you’re going to need to exit its antechamber. However, before you leave, do two things. One, warn the other people that they are flesh food unless they scram immediately. Two, check your shoes to see if you stepped in any infected blood. If you have, take the shoes off and throw them at the zombie; that is, leave the bad blood with the bad chili, and scat. Once outside, check for zombies. If you see some, run. If you don’t see any, assume you’ve encountered the first one and barricade the door. Tell the store manager that an insane terrorist is locked inside with a shoe bomb… then run.

What I would do:
Really, if a zombie attacks while one is giving birth to a chocolate baby boy, there aren’t many options. If there were a plunger or something to use as a weapon, I might be able to do something with it, like unclog a toilet or knock out some eyes. Unfortunately, things at Wal-Mart have a tendency to disappear unless bolted to the ground. Fortunately, there’s always another option.

This isn’t going to be pretty, but as soon as I realize my crapping comrade is a zombie, I would paint the walls brown and kick the stall door down. Then I’d pull up my pants, tear a urinal off the wall, and wait, and patiently wait, until the time was right to smash its fucking head in with piss-soaked ceramics. Fucking zombies.³

Afterward I’m sure the cops would be called, but before I ditched the scene I would fill a cart full of hard alcohol and fire starters, set it alight and roll it into the bathroom. I’m sure the heated glass, cheap plastic, and waxy saw dust would take care of sterilizing the body and blood, along with the rest of the bathroom and eventually Wal-Mart.⁴ That’s would I would do, unless, of course, there were more than one zombie.

¹ Or not, whichever. If you can’t hold it back then let it go, but get those pants off ASAP.
² This also applies to flatus, unless it’s your own.
³ Fucking zombies.
⁴ I do not condone corporate espionage.

Scenario:
Holy shit! You stole a car and are driving so fucking fast your teeth are digging into the headrest. Not only that, but its raining and the tires of the car are bald. Plus, the floor boards have holes in them and so do your shoes, making your toes wet. Why did you steal that crappy car in the first place? Suddenly, right in the middle of a two-tire turn, you hear a ripping sound in the back seat. Lucky for you, its just a zombie tearing its way toward you from the trunk, and something smells like gasoline.  What do you do?

What you should do:

Never, and I mean never, steal a car with a zombie in the trunk. You can get yourself into a predicament such as this. What could be worse than the deadly combination of a zombie, gasoline, and a stolen car that sucks? A zombie with time-traveling abilities, but that is for another time. In this moment, nothing is worse.

First of all, get all four tires on the ground. Stabilizing the car is the only thing that will get you out of this mess alive. There should be no attempt to kill the zombie at this point in time, only escape. The best defense is a great offense, but only when the board is stacked for you, not against. So, I repeat, get the tires on the ground.

Second (of all?), tuck and roll baby. No, I know you’re all hot and bothered over Chinese food right now, but this ain’t no spring roll honey. You need to literally jettison your body out of that car and into (traffic?) safety.

Finally, stop some cars that are passing by. Chances are at least one of them has a gun that you can blow the zombie’s brains out. If you don’t find one quickly, get out of dodge. I know it doesn’t sound responsible, but you’re obviously not equipped (mentally) to handle a zombie in the open.

What I would do:
Well, I wouldn’t steal a car because I am not a moron. I’d steal a tank because I know it’ll be secure. But let’s say that I got high on propane and Tylenol and I stole a car and the car happened to have a zombie in it. While I’m turning the corner, I’d pull my trusty shotgun out of nature’s pocket and blast the damn thing back into the trunk. Now, assuming you’ve never seen Mythbusters, the zombie would probably catch on fire at this point, setting the entire trunk ablaze. Pull the e-brake. Get out of the car. Take a bus home. Done.

Scenerio:
“Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. All right with the salad already, old lady.” It’s General Tso’s Chicken Time and you’re being buffet-blocked by an arthritic eighty year old woman picking through the lettuce like its actually food. Pfft. After deciding to line jump in an effort to eat before work tomorrow, a zombie catches the eye of a young woman walking past you. She screams. The zombie eats the eye. Dilemma: General Tso’s Chicken or escape zombie hell… what do you do?

What you should do:
Obviously, this is one tough situation. You’d been looking forward to this Chinese buffet all week. I mean, come on, it’s been weeks since your stomach got the pleasure of doing battle with General Tso, and you’ve been looking forward to a rematch despite the fact that last time he broke through your great wall into the safety of the open seas in record time. But, then again, having a zombie stuck to your frontal lobe doesn’t even taste good going down. So, run you must.

Forget about the woman; she is dead already. If it’s convenient, push her down on your way toward the door. Zombies usually go for the easy kill which will give you some time. Plus, this is America and “nobody puts baby in a corner.” Instead of heading straight for the door, a few things need to be done. First, you need to clear out the kitchen area. The lobby is already going to empty out because of the zombie, but the folks in back don’t know about it yet. The fastest way to pull this off is to run in screaming “FBI!!” Even the one’s who no speakey englesh know what FBI means. Second, start some grease fires. Burn that mother down and scram.
On your way out the door, try to locate the closest Chinese person and take them with you. You’re going to need that chicken later. Leeeerrroooyyy Jeeennnkkkiiinnsss!!!!

What I would do:
Let me point out that when I sense zombies in the area, I sometimes succumb to my immediate zombie response mechanism (IZRM), an instinctual multi-pronged attack combining complex offensive and defensive maneuvers mixed in with ruggedness. Also, assume the old woman’s deathly appearance does not trigger my IZRM (it has been known to happen from time to time) and that there really is a zombie. After seeing the zombie gouge out the younger woman’s eye with its dried out tongue, my IZRM would immediately take over and I would next find myself with a plate full of delicious chicken, fried rice, and an empty cup of water. Killing zombies always makes me thirsty, but why do they always forget to refill my water?

You see, the beauty of the IZRM is that I don’t have to worry about my immediate response because it’s instinctual. “  What I would probably find out later from a shocked bystandered is that I wiped out the eyeless woman’s head with a four rounds of my 10-gauge and magically launched a pair of chopsticks through the zombie’s brain… from 20 feet away. Plus, sometimes I get home and my pockets are full of jewelry.