Why I Will Be First to Die in the Zombiepocalypse

14 Mar

I’m not paranoid, but I’m not stupid, either. When I see Twitter light up with four hundred variations of “holy crap Uncle Stan is eating my brains,” the first thing I’m going to do is make a few warning phone calls to the folks back home and start filling up the bathtubs.

My pantry has enough food to keep a 2-3 people going for a few weeks, but that’s not enough to save my skin (or brains, in this case). Food alone does not a survival plan make. There are many good reasons I won’t last long in the End Times.

1. I don’t have a gun. Depending on the type of zombie you’re dealing with, your choice of weapon might not matter as much as your fortification, but it’s generally accepted that a good, accurate firearm and a stockpile of ammunition are your best friends during a zombie attack. I don’t have either. Strike one for me.

2. I’m slow. This is pretty self-explanatory. I like writing and pizza way more than I like running, yoga or fruit cup. If the question of my survival comes down to running vs. not running, I’ll have to think about it, and in the interim the zombies will have already beaten down the door and started drinking my brains out of my ear with a bendy straw.

3. My armor sucks. I wear a lot of cotton shirts and pants and own basically zero leather garments. (Fact #1: Before making this comment, one out of five readers was trying to puzzle out what I meant by “basically zero.” Fact #2: Now, five out of five readers are forced to wonder. I’m a bad person.)  Assuming a George Romero-type zombiepocalypse, protection from infectious bites will be high on everyone’s List of Important Shit. My clothes wouldn’t save me from a run of the mill kindergartner’s bite, let alone one from a zombified adult. Strike three!

4. My house is poorly fortified. I’m a spoiled girl. I like my houses with luxuries like central air and windows. With all those breakable entry points and no basement or cellar to hole up in, I’m pretty much screwed.

Don’t get me wrong. I’d really like to survive the end of the world. Being alive is a lot better than the alternative, and to that end I would like to make a one of a kind offer to those of you who have the drive and foresight to prepare in advance of the worst:

  1. I can cook. I’ve even studied raw veganism, so I can make vaguely food-like meals out of most anything using only a rock and a leaf as kitchen implements.
  2. I can grow things. Sort of. I haven’t killed an african violet in at least a year and I can sprout seeds and legumes into food product that will keep you and yours from getting scurvy.
  3. I can and will write flattering and/or persuasive propaganda for your zombie campaign, or to memorialize you as a hero in whatever civilization comes next. If that’s not really your thing, I can draw some nice big “KEEP OUT” and “TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT” signs for your–no, OUR zombie-proof residential complex.
  4. I had a lot of first aid and weapons training about ten years ago, and may even remember some of it under pressure. If nothing else, I can kiss boo-boos like a champ, so long as they are small, not gross, and NOT zombie bites.
  5. I will never, ever, on pain of death, suggest splitting up to investigate dangerous areas, nor will I scream myself silly at the sight of blood.
  6. Lastly, I will always compliment you and tell you how nice you look, even if you go six weeks without a bath or your teeth fall out because your dentist is currently shambling around downtown Atlanta eating stray dogs and carriage ponies.

Consider this my resume. I want to ride your coattails into the new zombie world. Until then, be safe, be wary, and never trust any stranger that wants to bite you, even if they claim it’s just a nibble.
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One Response to “Why I Will Be First to Die in the Zombiepocalypse”

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

  1. Zombie Food | Bika Central - March 15, 2011

    […] Why I Will Be First to Die in the Zombiepocalypse […]

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