I've Got An Axe To Grind...
Everyone knows that the world will one day be overrun by flesh eating zombies.
That much is true.
How will you survive?
Are you prepared?
Will you be able to protect your family?
I am worried about my family's chances against a ravenous hoard of ghouls. We are not an organized bunch. We argue a lot. We don't exercise much. We are the opposite of resourceful. My kids get distracted easily and they don't listen.
As a bunch, we are an easy target.
We are as good as zombie meat, served rare.
I need to get my clan into shape or we're most certainly goners.
I hope there's enough time...
It is Sunday morning. I am in the kitchen making pancakes with my seven year old daughter. My wife is arguing with my mother in law on the phone about nothing. My three year old sits on the top of our living room sofa. She stares out the window watching the cars go by. It's a day just like any other day...
Out-Numbered - Be careful with the eggs. I don't want them all over the counter.
7 Year Old - Dad! I'm not going to get them on the counter.
Out-Numbered - OK. OK. Just be careful is all I'm saying.
7 Year Old - I'm not a baby.
From the other room.
Wife - Is something burning in there?
3 Year Old - No!
Wife - Not you snuggles. I'm talking to your father.
Out-Numbered - SHIT! I forgot the Turkey Bacon in the oven.
7 Year Old - You're not allowed to say "SHIT".
Out-Numbered - God Dammit! Burnt to a crisp.
7 Year Old - That's two bad words. Why do you get to say bad words?
Out-Numbered - Because I'm the one that burned the bacon.
My daughter purposely drops an egg on the floor.
7 Year Old - SHIT!
Out-Numbered - HEY! I said no bad words.
7 Year Old - Yeah but I'm the one that dropped the egg.
From the living room.
3 Year Old - Daddy.
Out-Numbered - I'm busy sweetheart.
3 Year Old - Daddy come here.
Out-Numbered - Honey can you see what she wants please? I'm kind of busy in here.
Wife - I'm on the phone.
Out-Numbered - Go see what your sister wants.
7 Year Old - Why do I always have to check on her?
Out-Numbered - Because that's what sisters do.
3 Year Old - Daddy. Ted is eating a doggie.
Out-Numbered - OK honey. Your sister is coming.
3 Year Old - He looks mad. The doggie is bleeding.
Out-Numbered - Can you please go and see what she's talking about?
7 Year Old - FINE! This is so not fair.
Out-Numbered - Get used to it. Life isn't fair.
From the living room.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I drop the bowl of pancake batter and it lands in a crash. My wife and I rush into the living room to see what is wrong.
Out-Numbered - Oh Shit.
My neighbor is kneeling over a pile of blood soaked fur. He is devouring a dog. His name is Ted and he looks, well... fucked up. He has no idea we are watching him. My seven year old daughter is frozen with fear. My three year old watches attentively as if she were watching an episode of Wonder Pets. My wife is holding onto my wrist. Her nails are digging so deep into my skin, that I think I might be bleeding.
Out-Numbered - Everyone get down and don't make a sound.
Wife - What the fuck is going on?
3 Year Old - Fuck.
Out-Numbered - Zombies.
I grab my seven year old and lay her on the floor next to the coffee table. She's still frozen. She's shaking like a leaf.
Wife - Should we call the police?
Out-Numbered - That won't do any good. Grab the little one before Ted sees her. I'll close the blinds.
Before my wife can get to my three year old, she starts banging on the window.
3 Year Old - HI TED!!! TED!!! HI!
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Out-Numbered - NO baby! Be quiet!
My wife scoops her up off of the couch. Ted turns his head in a jolt, obviously startled by the banging. He pops up from his knees in one snapping and disjointed motion. He sees us. His eyes widen. His face is bathed in blood. He looks rabid. He runs toward our property in a mad frenzy, arms flailing above his head.
Wife - Oh GOD!
Out-Numbered - LOCK THE DOOR!!!
Wife - THE GIRLS!!!
3 Year Old - Mommy! What's wrong with Ted?
Out-Numbered - You take the girls.
Wife - Where are we going?
Out-Numbered - Upstairs!
Wife - What if he gets in? We'll have no where to go?
Out-Numbered - UPSTAIRS!!!
Wife - Where are you going?
Out-Numbered - TO THE SHED, TO GET MY AXE.
Wife - You can't go outside.
Out-Numbered - Don't worry. He's out front. I'm going out the back door.
Wife - Don't leave me alone with them. What if he gets in the house?
Out-Numbered - Grab the Aluminum Bat by my night table.
Wife - What will that do?
Out-Numbered - Aim for the head. It will bash his fucking brains in if you hit him hard enough. GO!
This is how it starts...
In "The Zombie Survival Guide" by Max Brooks, it says that in the event of a Zombie attack, go to the highest point in your home. If there should be stairs leading up to a room or an attic, use a tool such as an axe, to demolish the stairs behind you one by one leading up to the higher floor. Zombies are terrible climbers.
If there is a bathtub or a sink in the room, fill it up with water. You'll need it later. There won't be much time before the water supply becomes contaminated.
I also happen to have a case of canned, cooked bacon in my basement. That's twelve cans of cooked bacon. Fifty slices per can. Six hundred slices in total.
That should last us for a while.
My kids love bacon...
What's your plan?
That much is true.
How will you survive?
Are you prepared?
Will you be able to protect your family?
I am worried about my family's chances against a ravenous hoard of ghouls. We are not an organized bunch. We argue a lot. We don't exercise much. We are the opposite of resourceful. My kids get distracted easily and they don't listen.
As a bunch, we are an easy target.
We are as good as zombie meat, served rare.
I need to get my clan into shape or we're most certainly goners.
I hope there's enough time...
It is Sunday morning. I am in the kitchen making pancakes with my seven year old daughter. My wife is arguing with my mother in law on the phone about nothing. My three year old sits on the top of our living room sofa. She stares out the window watching the cars go by. It's a day just like any other day...
Out-Numbered - Be careful with the eggs. I don't want them all over the counter.
7 Year Old - Dad! I'm not going to get them on the counter.
Out-Numbered - OK. OK. Just be careful is all I'm saying.
7 Year Old - I'm not a baby.
From the other room.
Wife - Is something burning in there?
3 Year Old - No!
Wife - Not you snuggles. I'm talking to your father.
Out-Numbered - SHIT! I forgot the Turkey Bacon in the oven.
7 Year Old - You're not allowed to say "SHIT".
Out-Numbered - God Dammit! Burnt to a crisp.
7 Year Old - That's two bad words. Why do you get to say bad words?
Out-Numbered - Because I'm the one that burned the bacon.
My daughter purposely drops an egg on the floor.
7 Year Old - SHIT!
Out-Numbered - HEY! I said no bad words.
7 Year Old - Yeah but I'm the one that dropped the egg.
From the living room.
3 Year Old - Daddy.
Out-Numbered - I'm busy sweetheart.
3 Year Old - Daddy come here.
Out-Numbered - Honey can you see what she wants please? I'm kind of busy in here.
Wife - I'm on the phone.
Out-Numbered - Go see what your sister wants.
7 Year Old - Why do I always have to check on her?
Out-Numbered - Because that's what sisters do.
3 Year Old - Daddy. Ted is eating a doggie.
Out-Numbered - OK honey. Your sister is coming.
3 Year Old - He looks mad. The doggie is bleeding.
Out-Numbered - Can you please go and see what she's talking about?
7 Year Old - FINE! This is so not fair.
Out-Numbered - Get used to it. Life isn't fair.
From the living room.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I drop the bowl of pancake batter and it lands in a crash. My wife and I rush into the living room to see what is wrong.
Out-Numbered - Oh Shit.
My neighbor is kneeling over a pile of blood soaked fur. He is devouring a dog. His name is Ted and he looks, well... fucked up. He has no idea we are watching him. My seven year old daughter is frozen with fear. My three year old watches attentively as if she were watching an episode of Wonder Pets. My wife is holding onto my wrist. Her nails are digging so deep into my skin, that I think I might be bleeding.
Out-Numbered - Everyone get down and don't make a sound.
Wife - What the fuck is going on?
3 Year Old - Fuck.
Out-Numbered - Zombies.
I grab my seven year old and lay her on the floor next to the coffee table. She's still frozen. She's shaking like a leaf.
Wife - Should we call the police?
Out-Numbered - That won't do any good. Grab the little one before Ted sees her. I'll close the blinds.
Before my wife can get to my three year old, she starts banging on the window.
3 Year Old - HI TED!!! TED!!! HI!
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Out-Numbered - NO baby! Be quiet!
My wife scoops her up off of the couch. Ted turns his head in a jolt, obviously startled by the banging. He pops up from his knees in one snapping and disjointed motion. He sees us. His eyes widen. His face is bathed in blood. He looks rabid. He runs toward our property in a mad frenzy, arms flailing above his head.
Wife - Oh GOD!
Out-Numbered - LOCK THE DOOR!!!
Wife - THE GIRLS!!!
3 Year Old - Mommy! What's wrong with Ted?
Out-Numbered - You take the girls.
Wife - Where are we going?
Out-Numbered - Upstairs!
Wife - What if he gets in? We'll have no where to go?
Out-Numbered - UPSTAIRS!!!
Wife - Where are you going?
Out-Numbered - TO THE SHED, TO GET MY AXE.
Wife - You can't go outside.
Out-Numbered - Don't worry. He's out front. I'm going out the back door.
Wife - Don't leave me alone with them. What if he gets in the house?
Out-Numbered - Grab the Aluminum Bat by my night table.
Wife - What will that do?
Out-Numbered - Aim for the head. It will bash his fucking brains in if you hit him hard enough. GO!
This is how it starts...
In "The Zombie Survival Guide" by Max Brooks, it says that in the event of a Zombie attack, go to the highest point in your home. If there should be stairs leading up to a room or an attic, use a tool such as an axe, to demolish the stairs behind you one by one leading up to the higher floor. Zombies are terrible climbers.
If there is a bathtub or a sink in the room, fill it up with water. You'll need it later. There won't be much time before the water supply becomes contaminated.
I also happen to have a case of canned, cooked bacon in my basement. That's twelve cans of cooked bacon. Fifty slices per can. Six hundred slices in total.
That should last us for a while.
My kids love bacon...
What's your plan?
I will not stock the fridge and pantry and prepare for a nuclear holocaust or a bio attack or even an astroid hitting the earth...however, I will prepare for zombies...godspeed my friend, godspeed!
ReplyDeleteBut if the bacon is in the basement, what the hell good will it do? The zombies will not be fooled. They know the difference between live and canned. Also, you will be baconless.
ReplyDeleteYou are welcome.
I was going to ask you what is the best way to kill zombies. Then I realised that they are already dead, so it was a shit question. So I homed upon your advice that zombies are crap at climbing, but quite frankly I wouldn't want to rely on that. I could spend a year in the attic trying to avoid the fuckers, but actually, I would rather have something more immediate and effective to solve the problem.... any ideas?
ReplyDeleteWhat a load of crap. Get back to writing about truthful matters, this fiction you write is annoying and doesn't suit you. Everyone knows there is no such thing as canned bacon.
ReplyDeleteWow, entertaining AND informative. I now feel completely prepared for zombies. Except I have no bathtub, just a shower. Problem.
ReplyDeleteFunny post. And educational too.
ReplyDeleteOh and by the way, you and the family are totally zombie meat. Easy targets. I feel safer already - at least we wont be first in my house. Except the little yappy dog or the big howling dog will give away our location. Oh damn we are goners right after your family...
Well this is something I have discussed with my partner. We decided we should clearly go to the local pub and barricade ourselves in there. Lots to entertain ourselves with while we wait. Of course, I saw a documentary on a zombie apocalypse once (Sean of the Dead) and it didn't work for them. We figure it's sure to work for us though.
ReplyDeleteI'm guessing you're not Jewish.
ReplyDeletesneeky little 7yr old with the F bomb on the egg drop!
ReplyDeleteI guess I'll have to make notes b/c I am not the least bit prepared for a zombie attack. Wait, I have mace, does that work?
um, just so you know, it doesn't help to read something like this horrific trauma when there is a video of you in your sidebar with scotch tape all over your goddamn face.
ReplyDeletei'm just sayin... nightmare worthy.
You are one sick puppy. But, a "creative" sick puppy! Lovin it!
ReplyDeleteWow, I thought my breakfast making was chaos.. I burn the Turkey Bacon all the time, but I like it that way. If I drop anything it will be the hot boiling kind right on my arm..
ReplyDeleteZombies only infiltrate my dreams.. Way to go dad, get the ax and kick some a*& or Zombie Brains..
My Plan? Hmmm Bullet in the Cranium!
My family tastes like chicken, zombies hate chicken,, we're good.
ReplyDeleteThis. Is. Serious.
ReplyDeleteI see zombies like these in my store every day...I call them customers. ;-)
ReplyDeleteWe grew up with daily potential for the world to blow up by nukes. Fuck a zombie.
ReplyDelete@Cashier LMAO...Customer zombies...hahaha very good concept...I read a joke on zombie lol...
ReplyDelete"What did the zombie's friend say when he introduced him to his girlfriend?
Good grief! Where did you dig her up from?"
I found so many new, hilarious and zombie-filled blogs through Greeblemonkey's post today! Awesome!
ReplyDeleteYou really got me going here! My heart is still pounding.
ReplyDeleteJason, you've got to stop getting worked up over what's going to be, whatever that is.
Life is so much easier to bear when you take one day at a time and think positively while you enjoy that day.
Our plan is very similar to the Looney Tune cartoon of bodies running around in circles, slamming into each other and pointing fingers in different directions.
ReplyDeleteUnfortunately our fate is sealed. There isn't enough zombie planning in the world....
Did your regular drug dealer die or get arrested? Whomever is supplying you these days is lacing your stuff. Forget the zombies, find a more trustworthy drug dealer.
ReplyDeleteHAHAHAHA! Ok, That seemed like an Abbot and Costello scene, but with zombies and a little three stooges mixed in! Awesome.
ReplyDeleteThe blog article very surprised to me! Your writing is good. In this I learned a lot! Thank you!
ReplyDeletehttp://www.geartaker.com/wii-adapters-cables