Alive In A Dead World

We had an understanding, you and me, Talbot. I would hang with you, if and only if, you didn’t get any fucking nuttier,

Mike, as the only black member of this dysfunctional group, I’m truly amazed that I’m still alive. I mean I’ve watched almost every horror movie ever made, and without fail, if a man of color is in the movie, he dies first. In recent years, however, it has gotten somewhat better. Now, we sometimes make it to second killed, after the ditzy blonde, but I’ve got to imagine that a brother’s life expectancy in any horror setting is generally a couple of hours, at most.

The splitting up, I know, I know. I feel like the idiot that says, ‘Yeah I’ll go down to the basement alone to check out the breaker box, and I only have this one wooden match to light my way. Oh, and did I mention that we heard suspicious sounds down there only moments earlier?

BT barely registered my existence as I pulled the gun from his hand. He looked up at me with a tear-soaked face. “I’ve been bit, Mike,” BT sobbed.

Careful, the number one cause of accidental shootings is careful aim.

Grenades! Please tell me grenades!” I said, almost jumping up and down like a schoolgirl that found out the captain of the football team liked her.

Close your mouth when you’re nodding, Talbot,” Tracy said, “You look like the village idiot.

Oh, Talbot,” Tracy said, falling welcomingly into my arms. “What are we going to do with you?” she said, burying her face into my shoulder. “There’s always the rodeo,” I told her. It was the first thing that came to my mind. She wiped a tear from her eye and looked up at me. “You rarely think before you speak, don’t you?” “What? I think I’d be great, those guys that get in the barrel and everything.” “You know those are rodeo clowns, right?” she was telling me. “Clowns? I hate clowns. They are the root of all evil in this world,” I answered. “You honestly believe that, don’t you?” Tracy said. “There are zombies and vampires roaming this world, but clowns rule as the supreme evil being in your world.

Hi, occupants.” “What are you? Junk mail?

The first zombie reached BT and met a blissful exit from this world courtesy of a Louisville Slugger, the preferred choice of zombie slayers nationwide.

Brian was shaking his head, walking around in small circles. He was mumbling to himself. “No guns! The world is caving in on itself and this crazy old bastard doesn’t even have a gun.” “What’s wrong with your friend?” Crotchety asked. “He looks like he has distemper.

Nice pistol,” Paul said as I was looking it over, trying to figure out the cocking mechanism, safety and every other moving part. “You should give it to Deneaux.” I looked at him like he had just snorted some weed. “No, man, I’m not kidding. The lady can shoot the balls off a gnat from across the room,

There’s a safe!” Gary said, sticking his head back out. “Great, maybe we’ll see who he willed his gold watch to,” I said, looking at the zombie’s feet, which were still twitching. It was creeping the hell out of me, but at least she wasn’t telling me she wanted some Dr. Scholl’s or something. “Gun safe, Mike.” Gary said as if I were Gary Busey. Does that need any further explanation? “I

I guess zombies were a lot like stoners; neither did much in the way of action until food was involved. At least I would be able to keep myself amused.

It really does suck having the attention span of a coconut-laden swallow

You’re still concentrating, right?” BT asked to my retreating back. “Yes I’m still concentrating, Mrs. Weinstedder.” “What?” “Nothing, just my old algebra teacher.” “So somehow this whole scene reminded you of an old math teacher? Who did the wiring in your head? Because you should get your deposit back.

The weapons-of-mass-destruction-seeking team came back a couple of hours later with about as much luck finding anything, as the US had been a few years previous.

We got some swords,” Brian said, putting three sharp-edged blades on the ground. “They any good?” I asked, picking one up. I’d seen some that would fall apart from the impact with a watermelon and others with a blade so dull they couldn’t cut a fart.

I do not want to die, Talbot,” a heaving-chested BT said to me as we watched the zombies chase after Gary. “You just took on eighteen zombies with a wooden stick, I’d say your actions speak differently.” “No, just because I’m pissed off shouldn’t be construed as a suicidal gesture.

Careful, the number one cause of accidental shootings is careful aim.” Paul

I guess that makes me a hero,” Mike said. Paul knew he was kidding; but kidding or not, it was the truth. “I guess it does.” “Dude, you’re embarrassing me, and you need to be quiet for a while. I think I’ve found a way to move things with my mind.” “Are you shitting me?” “Nope, try it, man. You’re on the same shit as I am.