We Hate Zombies

Scenario:
It’s sometime in the morning and you wake up to the sound of something hitting the floor in your kitchen.  Sitting up in bed, you realize your signficant other is no longer present, the other side of the bed being cold enough to suggest they have been absent for some time now.  You look at the clock and realize it’s only 3:00 in the morning and you’re pissed to be awake, but in that sleepy kind of way that means you’re only mad enough to fall back asleep.  Then you hear something loud hit the ground again, and you realize that maybe something’s amiss.  You get up, walking quietly to the kitchen.  There you find blood all over the kitchen and a writhing body on the ground.  Zombies in the fucking morning, you gotta be kidding.  Then you realize that you recognize that walking carcass; in fact, you loved who that carcass used to be.  Something inside you stops working.  What do you do?

What you should do:
Realize one thing.  Once upon a time, there was a man who sang a song that suggested the truth behind making our existence both rewarding and purposeful was solely dependent upon the emotional connection shared with others in what we typically label as “love.”  Well, he was wrong, and he was wrong because he was dumb.  He didn’t know about the zombie threat, and what that zombie threat would mean.  Is that why he’s dead now?  I don’t know, but feel free to ask the jury once they come back in.

If all you needed was love, then I guess I’d recommend you kill yourself, because that bumbling flesh-pod doesn’t love you anymore.  But why would I recommend you kill yourself when there’s something better to give your life purpose and reward?  You don’t need love, you just need zombie-murder.  Mega-slam!  You see, now that your significant other has gone to the other side, you can freely swap out your previous sense of love with a fresh sense of unending vengence.  If you take a moment to think about it, you’ll realize it kind of has that new car smell to it, and I’m pretty sure you’ll find it both refreshing and invigorating.

But what am I talking about, really?  You’re probably saying to yourself, “Self, I wish I could make him stop skirting around what he’s really trying to say.”  Well, you could, if you ever left a comment, but who am I to place the blame on someone who may or may not be nonexistent?  Sadly, I digress.  

The point is that you have a job to do.  Your former-love has become unloved, and it’s up to you to seal the deal, by which I mean destroy their brain.  Grab a frying pan, for instance, and brutally bludgeon them until their skull has more cracks than a plumbers’ convention.  Sure, you could sit there and cry and weep over the death of a life you once happilly shared, or you could slip into denial and defenselessly think it’s just allergies, but that would be seriously dumb as hell.  I mean, it’s time to killa bitch.  Do it for you and the memory of them.

And once you’re done with that, upgrade your frying pan to a bigger frying pan and start cruising the streets.  There’s no way to know which zombie infected your beloved, so it’s up to you to take your crusade to each and every one of them.  I don’t know about you, but the last time my wallet was stolen, I derailed the subway train and set it on fire to get even.  Moral of the story?  The world is cruel, and zombies are cruel, and you don’t love zombies.  Unless by love, I mean kill, in which case you do.

What I would do:
I once heard that elves can die if their heart is broken.  I think that’s bullshit because elves don’t exist, but if elves did exist I would be glad that I wasn’t an elf.  Except it would be cool to see really far and shoot just about anything at all from anywhere in the world.  Of course I’m talking Lord of the Rings elves, not some other shitty kind of inferior elf that you might be thinking about.

Since I’m not an elf, I carry a bow and arrow around with me all the time.  Of course, it’s just one arrow, because I can shoot anything in the world with just one arrow and blow up an entire state.  Does that sound dangerous to you, or does it sound like pure genius?  I’m not sure either, but if you know me, then you know I like dangerous gibberish, and that’s god damn genius.  Pow! 

That’s the sound my arrow makes as it dives into the brain of the zombie that means nothing to me.  Zombies aren’t human.  That means I can kill zombies like rats, by which I mean stepping on their backs and popping off their heads.  Awesome!  Since zombies aren’t human and certainly aren’t any fun for anything but killing, I would have a lot of fun killing that undead bastard.  If this sounds harsh to you, then I’m not making myself clear enough.  The person I used to know is gone forever, and I’m not going to cry big puppy dog tears or whine about needing a cure.  Once a zombie, always a zombie, and to me that spells braincrusher.  Have a god damn good day you son of a bitch.