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.

Would you look at the time!  After all that Thanksgiving travel and the dangers of Black Friday, there was a lull in our writing capacities, largely from the drink but in no small part to the fact that we were holed up in our safety vaults recovering from the multiple IZRM seizures induced by seeing our aged relatives for the first time in a year.

Frightening.

And black friday was the worst.  We would have loved to throw some advice down on surviving Black Friday, but it turns out there’s more than zombies to be afraid of: people, in mass, acting like zombies, except not eating you.  That’s bullshit people, I thought we’d trained you better than that!

Well, I’ll tell you what.  I’m just sick.  I feel like the world has gone and sided with those evil zombastards, leaving me and Geoffrey here to rain bullets down from on high until the earth has been cleansed of undead lovers and undead alike.  What can we do?

Who would have thought a god damned Elmo and flat screen TV would be all it took to start the zombacolypse, and a day after Thanksgiving.  I was too shit blasted full of turkey and beer to go running around in the middle of the night, freezing my ass off just to keep people from acting like crazy croaks.  Besides, I was in my security vault, where it’s safe.  There’s no point trying to save the world when you’re not on your game, because you’ll just screw up.  That’s what I always say anyway.

Lucky for us, and the world, that it was only a false alarm.  People snapped out of it, for the most part, unlike real zombiism that has no cure.  Let this be a lesson that was paid dearly for, and remember those unfortunate enough to be what reminded us we should be decent to each other while there’s still a world left to be decent to.

As far as survival goes, we’ll get back to you on that.  Nothing like a holiday to make us feel lazy, but with a few ideas.

Scenario:
You’re walking aimlessly in a park.  It could be any park, it could be your park, and this just happens to be every normal day you’ve ever had.  The sun is sunning, the birds are chirping, the world is spinning, but slowly, relaxed.  Shit!  A herd of zombies appears out of no where, grunting, groaning, moaning for brains.  They reach toward you, and you have 1 second before your IZRM rocks the world.  What do you do?

What you should do:
This is what you should be thinking: “NOOOOOOOO!!!!  STOOOOOOOOPPPPP!!!!! Those aren’t zombies!”  Duh.  Everyone knows those aren’t zombies, because zombies don’t mother fucking talk god damn son of a bitch.  How many times a day do I hear zombies cry for brains?  Never, because zombies don’t talk, but a lot of posers end up with broken arms and no sympathy from me.  If you want, let your IZRM take over and wipe out the world; otherwise, bite your lip or break your finger or shit your pants.  Just do whatever it takes to stop yourself from killing a gaggle of teenagers (if you care enough).

What’s going on here?  Cosplay, the name of a movement for people who never let go of Halloween, for people who didn’t get invited to the costume parties everyone else was going to, for people who think they look better in someone else’s clothes than naked.  For these people, dressing up in costume isn’t just a once-a-year thing, it’s an everyday thing.  Why live your own life when you can act like you’re living the life of an imaginary character in some Japanese storyline?  No!  Don’t answer that!  It was a rhetorical question, I don’t want to hear bullshit about scantily clad women and huge weapons of ultimate doom.  Cosplay is not real life, and that’s what’s important here.

Unfortunately for those dumb enough to dress as a zombie, if you die in Cosplay you die in real life.  That’s why they are a real danger to themselves and you are the ultimate danger against them.  Fortunately for everyone, they can’t infect you if they bite you, which pretty much means you can drink their blood with impunity.  Still, I wouldn’t recommend it.  

What I would do:
I can smell Cosplay a mile away.  I knew those zombie look-alikes were coming my way like a fart on the wind.  Thanks to me, they were safe from a case of mistaken IZRM and get a chance to do something great with their lives.  I should be considered a hero, but teens these days can’t recognize heroes anymore; it’s been too long since they’ve had a good hero.  How can you tell?  Why else would they dress up like a zombie?  It’s disgusting.

Which brings me to the point.  I really hate some god damn zombies.  I hate them so much, I don’t even want to let imaginary zombies live.  That’s what drives me to find a Cosplay zombie hunter willing to take down a crowd of unsuspecting demons.  And I don’t just find some dork off the street willing to say “bang bang” or “lightning bolt! lightning bolt!”  I find a damn hot chick with enough gunpower to shoot down a fully functional mecha.¹  Whoa….  I think I just had a funny feeling.  Down there.  This is the shit dreams are made of people, so you gotta enjoy it while it lasts.

Yeah, I hate zombies that much. No, I didn’t get invited to a costume party either. Yeah, it does have something to do with what happened last year. No, it’s a long story and I’ll save it for another time.

¹ I’d apologize to the ladies for the sexism, but I’ve gotta be true to myself, and that’s the truth.

Scenario:
It’s 10/31/2008. OMFG, it’s Halloween again!!! This is the single most dangerous holiday for all of mankind. It’s the one day in the year where you could be killed for simply dressing like a zombie but you could also save the world for simply dressing like a zombie. It doesn’t make any sense when you really try and wrap your meaty brain around it, but give it a shot anyway. And take a shot already, because it’s going to be one long day and I can’t have you freaking out on me. So, what are you going to do? Dress like a zombie and die or dress like a zombie and save the world? The choice is yours, but the outcome isn’t.

What you should do:
Never dress like a zombie if you are optimistic. There are a lot of reasons why this is the only option for you and they are all pretty obvious. I will now go over them with you in case you aren’t an “obvious” type of person (you should probably dress like a zombie if this is the case).

One, by not dressing like a zombie, you run a much lower chance of being mistaken for a zombie. This benefits you in that I will not automatically kill you. Matthew will not automatically kill you. The tens and twenties of people out there who are trained like we are will not automatically kill you. Plus, if the zombie apocalypse does come, you won’t be mistaken as a real zombie and killed by any of the gun-toting military/redneck people who have been waiting for a reason to open fire on the public. Does it scare you that the military thinks about that? Good. Fear keeps you sharp unless you are one of those pussies who caves in like a kid with polio. In that case, you are wearing a zombie costume I hope.

Two… Hmm. Nope, I guess that is the only reason to not wear a zombie costume.

If you are pessimistic, then wear the zombie costume. When the zombie apocalypse does come, you will be able to hide more effectively amongst the zombies so that they don’t attack you. By doing this, you may be able to bring down the zombie armies as part of the last resistance. Plus, I don’t want to hear all the bitching and whining when the apocalypse does come and you can’t watch your daily dose of Opera and Dr. Phil. It makes it easier for me to kill you and claim it was an accident by blaming it on all the LSD and the strobe lights.

What I would do:
Each and every year, Halloween comes and goes and the next morning I have this horrible feeling of regret and a terrible pounding in my head. No, I don’t get wasted and bang a fat chick, although that would bring a similar feeling to me, but not as severe. That would be all too simple. No, I fall victim to what we in the business call a “false positive”. This occurs when my IZRM goes off and some poor shmuck ends up dead because he was dressed up like a zombie a little too well. Usually this happens more than once. In fact, it happens so often that I get a headache from it all and I have this horrible feeling of regret. I don’t regret that I killed them, just that they weren’t zombies. Dang, now I feel a little down.

**Smacks himself in the face**

Anyway, each year, I put out a warning that the ZAC (zombie advisory color) has been upgraded to “yelling yellow”. Yelling yellow signifies to the public that they are in grave danger for two reasons: the chance for the zombie plague to spread quickly is at its peak and that they run the very real danger of suddenly dying because of a lack of bones, courtesy of me. The danger of zombies spreading out of control is so real because it will take a lot longer before anyone realizes what is happening. When one zombie tears into someone standing next to you on a regular day, you freak out. On Halloween, however, you laugh and play along by letting it tear into you. Soon, an entire party is full of zombies and nobody was even smart enough to call for help. Then an entire neighborhood, the city, the state and it goes from there. All without anyone bothering to ask the question, “Is this real or fake?” This is as real and serious as the Routan Boom. Watch out.

Scenario:
Do you know what happens every four years in this country? Certainly not the World Cup! No, it’s the Presidential elections! This is a serious time for zombie-survivalists because the elected President will be in charge of preparing the nation against the threat of zombie invasions world-wide. The President’s policies could make the difference between eternal apocalypse and everlasting glory, and it’s up to you as a good citizen to make sure you know which candidate is the best for the job.

Unfortunately, no candidate likes to talk about their zombie contingency plans, so you decide to go to a campaign rally and ask in person. You get up real close to the front, so they can hear you, and just as you’re about to ask, you see what you figured you would see and realize that it’s too late and the country isn’t prepared because the current President didn’t do a very good job of many things. Zombies, of course, eating away at the edges of the crowd you’re in the middle of. What do you do?

What you should do:
Well, you should have brought some damn weapons, but either they checked for those at the door or you forgot or who knows what the hell. If you have weapons, you still have your work cut out for you because there will soon be zombies all around you. Depending on your weapon, I would suggest frightening those nearby so they give you space, then try and cut a path away from the nearest zombies. Keep in mind that certain candidates have certain kinds of protection that might shoot you in the head if they see you with a weapon before they know what’s going on, so keep that in mind less you want to die young.

Now, if you don’t have weapons, you still have a couple options. For instance, you could attempt to hide under the podium/stage, gambling that the zombies will chase people fleeing for their lives and leave you enough room to make a quiet exit. You should not, however, get up on the stage unless you are following the candidate through a secure back exit, acting like everyone showed up just to hear you speak, or sniping zombies from above the crowd. Which makes me want to point out that every candidate will always have a secure back exit, and even though you may not immediately be allowed to go down that exit, it will quickly be cleared once the poo hits the house.

Once outside, do whatever you do best, which I hope is killing zombies (as opposed to calling your mom).

What I would do:
Do you know what security guards generally don’t consider weapons? Energy drinks and chairs. Every campaign rally of any size always has some kind of portable chair because the stage is in the middle of the stands and the candidates need to have normal, every-day kinds of people sitting real close so the cameras can get some footage of the politician being down amongst the people. Then it starts to get hot under the lights and all the people breathing hard and some people start to sweat and hallucinate and get a little light headed and then they maybe hear screams and start slamming down cans of highly-caffinated liquid sugar like there’s a run on the bank and then they stand up and reach for their chair and black out and the next thing you know the IZRM¹ wears off and it’s very quiet.

What was I saying? Oh, yeah. Not many people know this, but I have two dogs. One is a tank covered with a dog chassis and the other is some breed of tangible lightning. I can call on them from anywhere in the world and they will magically appear at my side to assist me. When the zombies start to attack, I send out a subsonic whistle that penetrates the earth and calls the war-hounds to my side (sometimes other dogs too). Then I order the tank-dog to blow through the water main and the nearby water pipes until the whole area is covered in water. This gives lightning dog the opportunity to work some white fire into the mix, electrocuting everyone too stupid to get out of the wetness (which would be all the zombies). After enough electricity, the zombies’ charred remains will eventually degenerate into ash and crisps, completely safe to wash a baby in.

Also, I have a shotgun, and no one has yet taken that away from me.

¹Instinctual Zombie Response Mechanism, basically a self-defense response to zombie or zombie-like threats. Just FYI in case you haven’t heard.