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:
It’s about a hundred degrees and so humid the air is actually sweating on you, so you decide to take it to the city pool to avoid mowing the lawn.¹ Turns out half the population under the age of 16 thought the same thing, so young midgets are running to and fro with parents pecking and ruffling their feathers like chickens on a free range farm. Whatever. You walk over to the high diving board, the one all the kids are afraid of, because its the only thing without a line. It’s springy, which is nice, so you spring some, then take a dive. Right as you bound off the end of that plastic plank, you notice a spreading red blob in the water at the far side with a duo of zombies standing over looking confused. What do you do?

What you should do:
Cancel that float trip, because it’s time to head home, and when I say home I mean get your ass to the damn country where you’ve built a fortress that would even make Tom Cruise feel safe. Seriously, you’re looking at a major issue here. If you don’t see that yet, maybe you don’t have quite the picture yet. Imagine a fenced in expanse of cool, blue water filled with a hundred thrashing, screaming bodies, packed in together like a thousand tadpoles huddled in the last puddle of a dried out lake, with one or two half-awake minimum-wage lifeguards trying to keep the peace and safety.

Now imagine the water carries a disease that spreads through fluid and can infect via the eyes, the nose, the mouth, cuts, and scrapes. Whatever bled in the water was sure to be carrying just such a disease, and all those kids and parents in the pool are going to struggle to get out before it gets to them, but many will fail. Many will panic and fall back into the pool; some may be pushed, some may jump in on their own. The zombies will have only taken one bite, but their curse will spread like wildfire.

And you’re still in the pool. At least you’re on the far end. Swim away from the red, to the edge of the pool, and pull yourself out. Play time is over, and chlorine won’t kill that shit. Thanks to the powers that be, the zombies that came in through the only entrance and exit will be busy feasting on the supple flesh of a fleeing audience, so you should have a minute to find an alternate escape. Grab a lawn chair and use it as a step up to get over the fence. With any luck, you won’t break your ankle on the way down the other side. Then it’s off to the hills with you.

What I would do:
The first thing, of course, would be to get out of the pool; I think we can all probably agree that’s pretty much a required first step. From there, though, everything changes. Instead of heading over the fence to escape, I’d grab a lawn chair and climb back up the high dive. The good thing about zombies is that they are dumb, always dumb, and they almost always are extremely uncoordinated. This means that climbing is generally a serious problem for them, especially ladders or very steep steps.² Because of this, I’ll be relatively safe, and if any of those creepy-crawlies does make it up the ladder a little way, I’ll give them a face full of chair to knock them back to the ground.

Other than protecting the ladder, my main goal would be to lure the zombies into the pool. Since zombies are dumb and don’t know anything about water, I will go out to the end of the diving board and act as the bait. The zombies will just see that I’m dangling out in the open, so they will take the shortest path to me, namely by walking right into the water. The water will then trap them, hindering their already slow movement, resisting their attempts to attack or even get out. Also, it’s highly likely that all the zombies will fall for this trap once the other chaos dies down.

With everything set, the zombies will all end up stuck in the pool, a crowd of undead bodies thrashing uselessly with all their heartless eyes focused on my pulsing veins. Being careful to avoid any splashings of infected water, I would jump-roll back off the high dive to the cement surrounding the pool. Before the zombies could react, I would steal a toaster and extension cord from the concession stand and launch it into the pool. Electricity will do what it does in such conditions, and I can’t imagine the result would smell very well. But wouldn’t it be funny if it smelled like bacon and made me really hungry?

¹ Some cities don’t have city pools, or they have several small ones, but if you don’t know what a city pool is, just think of a big pool maintained by the city. Makes sense, right?
² There may be exceptions to this rule, but none that I’ve ever seen sober.