We Hate Zombies

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.