We Hate Zombies

Scenario:
It’s next to midnight and you’ve got a stack of empty beer cans. You’d be buzzed but for the tension in the room so dense it’s almost palpable, like the sweat soaking your shirt. Zombies. They are everywhere, and you’re the last human alive. Good thing you have infinite ammo and a good position on the top of some crates. They attack, you jump, firing into their brains, scoring the ‘Zombie Killing Spree’ medal, clearing the room. Halo 3 has never been so stressful. You sense an attack, but at that moment your screen freezes and the Xbox 360 stops responding. You angrily restart the machine, cursing like a sunburned sailor in a hurricane, when it smacks you upside the head, sending you flabbergasted and reeling. Three. Red. Lights. The ring of death. Which is exactly when a real zombie smashes through your window and slams onto the floor. What do you do?

What you should do:
Fix the Xbox 360. You know it’s out of warranty like a piss soaked laptop, Microsoft won’t save your baby for free anymore. It’s up to you, so here’s what you do. First, buy yourself some time by picking up the couch and slamming it on the zombie. You don’t have to kill it, just break all its bones, especially the leg and arm part of the bones, rendering the zombie mostly harmless. Then grab up the Xbox 360 and take it to the kitchen table.

I know the table’s covered, but it’s all trash anyway. Throw that crap into the corner, there’s no time to screw around. You’re going to need some Torx screwdrivers (T10 and T8) and a strong pointy tool. Oh, and also a sword. Now, while defending yourself against the zombie onslaught with the sword, hacking your way to grisly glory, keep your mind on the primary task. First rip off the front plate. No screws, no tabs, just take it off. Use the pointy thing to hit the six tabs on each the right and left of the case to remove the grills, then jab a zombie through the eye and wiggle it around in its brain. Bingo, dead zombie bitches!

After the sides are off, proceed to hit the seven tabs on the back of the machine, seperating the top and bottom of the case as you go. The three tabs in the front are a piece of cake; then lift off the bottom piece. The top is screwed on, so you need the screwdrivers. After that, removing the top of the case is easy, just like beheading three zombies at once. I know you can do it, so do it already! … Do it. Seriously.

Now you’re almost home free. The front of the case has the power button and those pesky red lights. Pop off the light diffuser, then unscrew the three screws holding the circuit board with the power button on it. The board will simply slide off once done. Don’t forget to kill some zombies if they appear, perhaps acting like The Highlander, except without the cool lighting (unless you throw some forks into the microwave) … (Do it.) Inside the 360, there’s a DVD drive. Simply pull it out, unplug it, put it aside. Then there’s a pair of fans and an air vent. The vent is held down with one tab, easy to get off. Unplug the fans, then tilt them forward until they are out from underneath the metal holding them in. Remove the fans. The motherboard can now be removed. The bottom has two “X-Clamps”. Kill those bitches, because they are in-league with the zombies, trying to ruin your life to death.

Replace them with some screws and washers. The parts lists are running around the net like zombie hunters on payday, so I won’t list them here. Take care of the old thermal paste on the processors with Q-tips and alcohol (I prefer tequila), cleaning until it’s a mirror finish. Replace with fresh thermal compound. Without putting everything back together, and specifically without the fans, plug the power button front plate back into the motherboard, hook the board up to the power and video on the TV, then turn the 360 on. Those pesky lights are still there, kind of like the zombies are still outside your house, jumping through your window. Watch out for the cripple on the floor! He still might bite.

Wait for the 360 to switch from 3 red lights to 2; that means it’s overheated, which will melt the solder connecting the processors to the motherboard, thereby re-establishing the connection. Tighten the heatsinks down. Reassemble. See if that fixed your problem (I bet it did). If so, fucking awesome. Now you just have to survive the night against a thousand zombies without infinite ammo or some handy crates. If it didn’t fix your problem, then nothing matters anymore. Without your 360, you might as well just die. Do it as you see fit, just don’t let yourself become a zombie.

What I would do:
I already did this. Yesterday. Except without the zombies upon which to vent my rage. Dammit.

Still, Xbox 360 is working again. Woo! My thanks to those who did not give up the good fight and fall blindly into that dark night.

Scenario:
You went to bed last night with a little tingle in your throat, perhaps an ominous sign of drier days or developing illness. Just in case, you decide to call in sick to work in an effort to skip work but you advertise it as an effort to head off runny nose, dry, scratchy eyes, and a hoarse cough. That’s why you’re sitting on your couch with a beer and a bag of pretzels watching day-time television. It sucks long and it sucks hard, and you can’t help but flick through the channels. Then you stop, and your eyes begin to bulge, and you realize a fate worse than death: Teletubbies. There’s a sensation in your stomach, warm and sticky, and it climbs into your throat, into your mouth, and you begin to retch. That’s when a zombie hooker walks through your window. What do you do?

What you should do:
There’s a little known weakness among the living that few ever discover. In adults, the colorful sound-orgy of the Teletubbies triggers an instinctual vomit reflex that can rarely be overcome.¹ The force and quantity is so severe that it clenches all muscles and restricts breathing for prolonged periods of time, rendering the victim incapable of action until commercial break, if not the end of the episode. In summary, Teletubbies is a buzz kill that could end lives. That’s why it’s on only when normal, honest people are working to bring home the bacon bits.

I explain this not because it will help you survive against hooker zombies, but that it will help you survive against all that is Teletubbies. When you see a zombie, you have full opportunity to take action, but Teletubbies have first-strike and preemptively shatter your ability to resist. Add a zombie on top of Teletubbies and you. will. die.

So here’s what you do. When you feel that next wave of frothy stomach-juice coming up, convulse as best you can so that you spray the television screen with obscuring freedom. The better that subversive material is buried, the less it will be able to hold sway over you. The music, the voices, you can’t help that unless you’ve already had several beers and enough liquid to short the whole works. As soon as the Teletubbies have fallen from wicked power, move away from the zombie and regain your strength.

It’s your house, there should be no better place for you to defend against a zombie intruder. If you aren’t prepared at home, then how can you say you’re prepared at all? If you don’t have shotguns lining the walls or hidden under ever cushion, grab a mace or sword and wreck havoc. What? You don’t have maces or swords, or even a club? Then get creative and find a weapon, or just leave. Whatever, I don’t even care anymore.

What I would do:
If you thought I was immune to the corruptive power of the Teletubbies, you would be wrong. Dead wrong. I am no mere mortal, but the Teletubbies were certainly sent by the very darkest powers of Satan to ravage the earth and rend asunder all of humanity as the faux horsemen of the apocalypse.² As such, what is there to do but lash out against the breaking waves of evil before the last vestiges of righteousness flow from my body.

Thanks to my close relation with the avian family, the acidity of my stomach rivals that of the stately Vulture, yet includes a variety of noxious fumes that combust given the slightest provocation. As the Teletubbies attempt to paralyze me, I would spray liquid-corrosion out in the direction of those monsters and the monster breaking through my window. The digestive juice will quickly destroy the TV and melt the feet off the zombie, causing that nasty hooker to fall to the ground.

Then, while the fallen croaker crawls towards me in an unnerving display of determination, I’d take up my remote control, a high-powered Logitech Harmony, and switch it to ‘laser’ with an activity button I’ve labeled ‘Mission Eagle-Eye.’ Pointing at the melting zombie, I’d mash all buttons at once to send out a stream of radiation that would ignite the fumes in a minor explosion, decimating all but the upper torso of that lady of the night. At the same time, I would turn my back and catch a ride on the shockwave into another room, from which I would grab my pre-packed supplies, drive away in my Ford Escape, and remote detonate my entire house with the Panic button on my truck’s keyless entry fob. Poof. Zombie ash.³

¹ Some have proven immune to Teletubbies, primarily social workers and day care specialists. It is recommended that one be kept on speed dial at all times.
² “I looked, and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Zombies were following close behind him.” The true words of revelation.
³ Imagine U2’s “War” is blaring as the soundtrack of my victorious escape.

Scenario:
You’re enjoying a hometown basketball game when it happens. You crave nachos. To alleviate this craving, you head toward the concession stand, because this ain’t no fancy hotel of a basketball court where they bring the nachos to you, you have to go get them yourself. On your way to the nacho hut, which is conveniently located in the dead center between the two doorways (which happen to be on opposite walls) that lead out of the stadium, you hear a scream. In the door to your left stands a zombie; in the door to your right stands a giant grizzly bear eating a kid. What do you do?

What You Should Do:
I know it is going to be hard, but the first course of action is to leave the nacho hut, sans nachos. What really makes this a hard thing to do isn’t the fact that nachos are one of the Chosen Foods, but the fact that they are having a special on General Tao’s Chicken Nachos tonight: buy one get a free miniature sword. Damn this crazy ball of dirt we call home!!!

Oddly enough, this is an old building that hasn’t had a fire code inspection in a couple of decades, and those are the only two exits in the entire building. The choice is tough, but you have to choose between a bear with no problems eating people, or a zombie who exists solely for that purpose. You choose….the bear. While the bear is a ferocious killing machine, there is always going to be just one bear. He may get distracted by someone larger and more tender than you are, which could allow you an opportunity to slip by. The zombie has the potential to multiply in numbers, multiplying the danger factor exponentially. Plus, it’s a freaking zombie.

The best course of action for getting out of there alive is simple: you have no friends or family. It doesn’t matter who you came to the game with, you don’t have any friends or family. Friends and family only slow you down and get you killed. Let them figure it out. If they love you enough, they won’t get killed.

What I Would Do:
Immediately, I would have a plan of action: get some freaking nachos. I know its risky and a panic might be diverted if I were able to head off this attack before the general public realized what was going on, but I am not just talking about chips and cheese here folks. I’m talking about the great General combining his powers with the cheese and tortilla chips. Need I say more?

After acquiring said nachos, I notice something about the bear. It’s a dude. Luckily, I have the tools at my disposal and leap into action immediately. At full speed, I run straight at the zombie (I never would have guessed it either!) and pull out a vial from my shotgun holster. The vial contains a sample of bear urine, from a female in heat, and I spray it all over the zombie. This will drive the bear into a frenzy and he will charge toward the zombie without any regard to the humans in the area.

The reasoning behind this is simple: bears are scary and people are dumb. They are going to run toward the zombie door to get away from the bear, even though the zombie is the greater danger. By bringing the bear away from his doorway and into the zombie’s doorway, I have contained all the danger to one area AND freed a door for people to escape.

Now, all I have to worry about is the zombie and the bear, which may become the dreaded zombie-bear at any moment. Luckily for me, zombies do not fancy animals so much and is less likely to bite the bear. The bear is frothing at the mouth by now in anticipation of serving some bear jelly and is unlikely to tear into the zombie, immediately. This will give me the time I need to kill them both with the free miniature sword I received from the nachos purchase. It won’t be easy to kill a horny grizzly bear with a dull miniature sword, but by God I am going to do it. Total loss of life if executed properly: one bear. All in all, it’s a good day for some nachos.

Scenario:
You’re deep in a cave located in the mountains of Switzerland, pitch black but for the light of your torch, and you’re wearing chain mail for no reason other than there’s dragon dung everywhere. Why? Because there’s a god damn dragon, and it’s breathing hellfire at you like you’re a hot dog in some fat bastards charade. Whilst fighting said fowl beast, you begin to notice other movements in the dark. That’s when you realize the dragon’s lair was on a zombie cemetery. Why? Because those zombie fuckers always pull shit like this. Obviously you’re pissed. What do you do?

What you should do:
It seems to me like you should have a sword on you if you’re going through all the trouble of wearing chain mail and walking around in dank, wet caves for no good reason. Let’s just assume you went for a stroll, ended up in the mountains of Switzerland, found the armored corpse of a medieval knight, and decided to collect some bat guano for your honeybunches of oats at home.¹

Is the dragon the biggest threat? Probably, if you don’t know how to handle them, but if it burns you like a marshmallow in the coals, at least you’ll actually be dead. Back away from the dragon, slowly, without turning your back. It’s just pissed that you woke it up, or that you’re after its treasure, or eggs, or canned spam, or whatever crap it thinks it’s protecting. Don’t act afraid or combustible and you should be ok. That leaves the problem of the zombies circling around behind your back. Fortunately, if you’re stupid and “die” you’ll be buried in a cave forever.²

Hopefully the dragon will lend a helping hand here. Everyone knows dragons and zombies are not BFFs, so there’s a good chance the dragon will light em up like mothballs in gasoline. Either way, you don’t have to fight them all, just enough to make your way out. Good thing you have a sword, because you’re going to have to put it to good use by slicing and dicing your way out of Zombie McZombietown. If they do surround you, just hold on tight and start spinning towards the exit (they can’t get you if you’re spinning, so don’t stop).³ With any luck, the chain mail will protect you from bites and you’ll escape just in time to get lost forever in the endless caves. Enjoy!

What I would do:
Chain mail is for women. I pissed on that medieval knight because he was a bitch to die in a cave instead of dying for glory and honor on the battle field. And I don’t need his bullshit sword, either. Thanks to the geniuses at Zombie Tools, I always have an Urban Bone Machete hidden somewhere on my person, ready and willing to vanquish some venemous villains vying for vitality.⁴ There’s nothing that says fucking awesome like a sword etched in acid. Dammit.

Also, dragon fire is bullshit. Instead of ducking out from a fight, I’d run toward the nearest zombie and cut him in half. Then I’d lift the writhing corpse up by his back and use him as a fire-shield while I ran under the dragon and kicked it in the balls (or whatever). Yup, that’d really piss it off. After charging through the fire and the flames, hacking up a zombie froth as I went, I’d throw my torch down just so I’d have a challenge making my way back to the real world. I’d probably spend the rest of the day getting drunk and cooking up five pounds of bacon to satisfy my craving for burning flesh. Awesome.

¹ I don’t know who that is or why they’d want it.
² I put quotes around “die”, dammit, so don’t think I don’t mean zombie.
³ It works in football, so I’m pretty sure this is good advice.
⁴ There’s no reason, really, except for an old vendetta.