We Hate Zombies

Scenario:
Like a badass, you have a game room in your basement oddly situated next to a bunch of tools across the room, including a crowbar, hacksaw, and some battery powered shit. Maybe you have a garage in your basement, maybe your wife just hates your things and wants it trapped in the downstairs, whatever. Also, you have a computer down there too, which you only ever use just for watching pr0n while you play a game of pool. Which is what you’re doing.

But then something in the back of your mind triggers a heightened sense of awareness, and you begin to hear the sounds of distant screaming. Oh baby, this is what you’ve always dreamt of, time for some action! Except you can hear they’re already in your house. And they’re already infecting your wife. Holy shit! They’re already coming down into your man cave and are between you and all your possible weapons! What do you do?

What you should do:
Pull your pants up and fasten your safety belt, cause it’s time to rock! As a reminder to everyone who doesn’t remember every word that I’ve ever preached, there’s no such thing as being separated from all possible weapons. As soon as you stand up, you should immediately become aware that all your junk no longer has meaning beyond what damage it can inflict on an infected rotten turd muncher.

At your desk, you understand the world is over and that the computer will soon lose power forever. First weapon: the computer. Without a computer, the desk is nothing. Second weapon: the desk. Then you realize you don’t have time to sit down anymore. Third weapon: the chair. And you never really played pool anyway cause you suck really bad at it. Fourth weapon: pool sticks, the cue ball, America.

Without knowing the meaning of fear, you should smash that sticky keyboard into the teeth of the first blood-thirsty zombie, knocking him backward onto his ass. Then throw the chair across the room and trip up the three zombies still coming down the stairs. The pool balls are worthless to you, but grab two pool sticks and overturn the table onto the toothless downed dead bastard still struggling to get up.

Two wooden spears in hand, all that’s left is to dance a dance of everlasting death, spearing the lifeless eyes of those cursed fuckers until you reach your wall o’ tools. I won’t even list the different weapons you’ve suddenly found for yourself, but I think you won’t have any trouble cleaning up this mess and getting the hell out of Dodge.

What I would do:
No ex-Major League pitcher turned nine ball pro would be able to resist spinning onto the pool table and beaming zombies straight in the face with a rack of balls…which is exactly what I would do. For a little bit anyway, because it would be fun, like Shaun of the Dead throwing records at zombies kind of fun. I guess what I’m trying to say is Family Fun. Unlike what was on the computer.

After having my bit of fun, the rage would inevitably settle back in, and there would be nothing left to hold back my wrath. Any zombie still standing would immediately get a face full of CRT monitor, followed by a desk full-body-slamming. Keep in mind that none of these things are likely to put a zombie down for the count, at least not like poking them through the eye with a wooden stake, but it helps me control my penchant for burning fury — by adding gas to the flames.

Immediately I would begin dismantling my stairs one board at a time, taking each one and beating the moving corpses until it splintered into fragments and the sons of dead, motherless goats really stopped moving for good. The blood and gore would be epic and fascinating, the kind of phenomenon mathematicians might someday study for fractal splatter analysis.

I would probably need to take a shower, then run to the nearest Taco Bell and see if they had been overrun yet. Booyah! Say hello to my Burrito baby.

Thanks to Tyler for submitting this scenario.

Scenario:
You wake up.  You’re in the middle of a field, naked, without anything, without even the zombie killing tools you always keep on you.  You get up, dust off, and look around.  There’s a town not far off, so you decide to head that way to find clothes, food, and weapons, hoping to make it before the sun burns your hide.  Problem is, you don’t recognize the town, and you can’t see or hear a person anywhere.  That is, unless you count the zombies.  What do you do?

What you should do:
The only place you know is the field you woke up in.  Not that you really know it, but at least you know where it is, and the flat land gives you a chance to spy zombies.  My first suggestion?  Get back to someplace you know, and that means going back to the field.

Will there be weapons there?  No.  Will there be a place to hide?  Obviously not.  Will you have a chance to look around and see what’s coming slowly at you?  Yes.  Will you have time to sit down, and look up into the sky, searching for animals in the clouds and thinking about the parents that abandoned you?  Don’t be an ass.

Of course, I’m assuming you’ll find a farm house nearby, and you’ll find yourself wondering why you didn’t go there first.  And in the barn or house, you’ll find some weapons strikingly similar to the zombie weapons you apparently left at home.  And, as you can probably imagine, these weapons will be sharp and well taken care of, because farmers don’t run around whacking the heads off things without a sharp blade.  (I’ve heard farmers do this though, a lot.  Like, all the time!)

Still, if you go outside to slay some zombies with a scythe, just remember to put on clothes.  Or sunblock.  Nothing would be worse than fighting zombies with a sunburn on your ass.

What I would do:
Of course I don’t know much about farming, but I know a thing or two about driving and levers, so I can imagine that once I find a combine I’ll be able to drive it at least as well as a 6 year old farm boy.

Once I have the combine, it’s only a matter of time until I sow the fields with the blood of the undead.  In a few more months, I’ll be harvesting some rotten cotton, just to weave a tapestry of my awesomeness for the sake of burning, because I hate zombies and I won’t have no zombiedom in my house!

Alternatively, if I didn’t feel quite liquored up enough to kill zombies in sufficient style, I might just find a bike or something and ride on toward the next town, hoping to find more room to get drunk again, or else a map to find my way back to my end-of-the-world fortress.  Whichever.

Thanks to James for submitting this scenaro.

Scenario:
To help you train for the great zombie apocalypse, you decide to enter into a half-marathon because you’ve calculated that it takes approximately 13 miles for you to escape the city by a safe route on foot.  So, as it usually goes, you need some competition to boost your quest for the long distance run and you pay a little bit to be lured into a dangerous place full of people with only the hope of food and beer at the end.  Of course it would be the tenth mile when the zombies strike, and all around you are people half-dead from the run or completely dead but moving no slower.  Also, you’re tired as shit.  What do you do?

What you should do:
Obviously the first step is to get off the path.  The zombies will be quickly attracted to the sweat and stink of the runners, so there will quickly be a swarm of zombies all over the damn place.  You need to get off as soon as possible, then search for other means of escape.  Your plan to run out of the city has backfired and now you’re too tired to even swing a bat hard enough to crack an egg.

Of course, you can always try to find a car, and depending on what part of the run it is you might get lucky, but around here the cars tend to be cleared out a bit so runners don’t suffer from the exhaust poisoning.  However, one secret few realize is that there are golf carts used by race officials to haul off those too weak to move themselves.  Find one of those and you’re practically home free, assuming you can keep zombies off your grille long enough to get out of the area.  Good luck with that.

What I would do:
There’s no point starting something you’re not going to finish, and after having come 10 miles there’s no way in hell I wouldn’t finish that race.  The first thing I would do is keep on running, and through this strategy the zombies behind me won’t be able to catch up.  Then, when zombies come up in front of me, I’ll jump kick them in the chest and knock them down, or at least until I find some sort of club or blunt weapon or what not.

That will be a good day, running and jump kicking for 2 miles, enough to kill a man.  And you know what I would find at the end?  Not beer and hot dogs but more fucking zombies, just to say hello and congratulations and pat me on the back like Judas and Brute.  You’re probably thinking to yourself, Brute?  No, not Brute, but you have to imagine that little thing on the “e”, as in “et tu Brute.”  Dammit, leave me alone, I’m too busy to post twice a week let alone find out how to make that damn “e.”  Whatever.

At the end there’s nothing left to do but use the detonator on my watch to explode the bombs I hid along the route and particularly at the end.  I would get far enough away, of course, but I’d still like to see the explosion.  Sucks for everyone else that didn’t die yet, but atleast I won’t have to worry about them coming  back to nibble on my calf.  Which would be cramping.

Good day to you sir!

Scenario:
You’re raking your leaves like any normal person would do. Just when you finish and the pile is at its highest, your kid runs over and obliterates the entire mess. All you can say is, “Goddamn it Frank, why do you always have to do that? Cut that shit out!” As Frank runs back into the house, screaming with glee, you continue to rake. Once again, the pile reaches its full height, towering over you in triumph. Again, the comes falling down. This time it isn’t Frank. It’s the neighbor kids and the leaves simply got in the way. What they want is you and your precious non-zombie flesh. What do you do?

What you should do:
Well, since they are zombies, you know that you have to destroy their brains in order to completely nullify the situation. However, the neighbors may not realize the situation, which can cause problems when they find out that you killed their kids for what may have seemed like knocking down a pile of leaves. Approach this carefully.

If their parents are being good parents, knock them over and run inside. Somewhere, the parents are watching and when they see this, they will come running over to give you a piece of their mind. The idea here is to get them to see the danger that the kids now pose or to just have them get infected when their child bites off a finger. Either way, you can bum-rush the zombies from your home and let them have it. And by it, I mean the business end of your shotgun.

If the parents are not good parents, they aren’t watching what their kids are doing and won’t see anything. Again, knock the kids over with the rake and run inside. Get on the phone and call the parents. Tell them that their kids are acting strange and tried to bite you while you were raking your leaves. They won’t believe you, but they will come and get their kids when you threaten to shoot them if they don’t leave. Again, the situation should pretty much solve itself when you introduce the shotgun.

If for some reason you cannot get their parents on the phone, then you have only one choice. Shoot the children in their adorable zombie faces and throw them in a barrel of homemade napalm. Then spend the next couple of hours burning the leaves you just raked as a cover story for the large fire that won’t go out. The kid’s parents will be destroyed with grief and may take their own lives, but sacrifices must be made if the name of the game is zombies. Think about how many people you saved and everything should be all right.

What I would do:
Like a good neighbor, I always have my hedge trimmer within arm’s reach. I would waste no time in dispatching the zombie. If the parents are watching, I will just dispatch them as well. If any other neighbors are watching, dispatched. If the body count is high enough, I will just have to load up the old pickup and take a trip to the quarry. Otherwise, I like the smell of napalm in the morning.

Scenario:
You live in the middle of the United States and its freaking cold outside. Seriously, it is like, 30 something outside all the time now and it was just 90 a few weeks ago. WTF is that all about anyway? I want some goddamn answers here. I am tired of playing by the Man’s rules and I want it to be warm and pleasant. Cough, Cough. Sorry, sometimes I get a little pissed off about how cold it is and how much I hate it. Anyway, its cold as week old shit and you are in the middle of a fucking zombie apocalypse. You are in a mall and are about to head out into the world on foot because the world ran out of gas. What do you do?

What you should do:
Make a list of important things that you need to have with you at all times. This is important because you are only going to have things with you at all times, nothing more and nothing less. There is no vehicle to help carry stuff and you need to survive long enough to reach warmer climates. Making a list will help eliminate emotion and maximize logic in what you take and what you don’t.

The obvious things on the lists are warm clothes. No, you don’t need more than one change of clothes so don’t even think about it. You need to make sure you have a couple of pairs of socks so that you can keep your feet warm and dry. This is important because Bear Grylls says so. Also, make sure you have a hat or some sort to keep your head warm. You will lose most of your body heat through your head, so stock up.

Once you have that figured out, work on the essentials. Don’t stock up on canned food and water like a moron. Get a map of the area so that you know where to find water and pick up some supplies to obtain your own food and cook it. I would suggest checking with anyone in the mall who is homeless. They know what you need to survive. A cooking tin, a pocket knife, some flint and a compass would be a great way to start. These are all very useful tools in the wild.

Once that is all said and done, get something good to eat and stuff yourself. It may be a few days before you can stop and set up a camp and have a nice meal. I would recommend taking some bread and cheese with you on your trip solely because it will stay edible for a long time and it will provide you with some carbs, fats, and proteins which are all necessary to stay not dead. Plus, it is simple and quick to prepare and it doesn’t weigh a lot like canned foods do.

What I would do:
Have you ever seen the movie Tremors? Well, that movie was based on my ability to tunnel through the ground like it was salt water. Being that this is completely true, I would simply bore into the earth where it is slightly warmer and tunnel my way to Florida. This would only take me a few days because I can move at a constant speed of 30 mph for about a month without stopping. I’m sure glad zombies can’t do that.