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.