Monday, June 7, 2010
Why I Would Survive a Zombie Apocalypse
First of all, fuck you. That’s right. If you were stranded somewhere, and got a hold of a radio… I don’t care. I’m not coming to get you. I’m going to sit my ass in my nicely fortified home, with my crowbar and bat. I would just stay in my house being comfortable with my family. I won’t even go outside if there weren’t any more zombies.
When you watch a zombie movie, the first mistake anyone ever makes is going to get someone that asked for help. The moment you step outside of that nice little comfort zone you’ve set up, whether it be a mall or a house, you’re in for a world of trouble. I’ll keep as much between me and those zombies as I can. Even if that means you are between me and those zombies. I’ve got everything I already need in my shelter; you can come to me if you want my help.
Then there is the supplies, you obviously don’t have any if you’re asking for my help. I know how to get more supplies, you don’t. I’m not going to risk my life twice as much just to help out someone that can’t help themselves. If you want a can of soup, come get it or go find it. On second thought, fuck you. My soup. You might not have any medical supplies, well tough luck. They stopped producing those when most of the population of the world turned into brain crazy freaks. These supplies I have are all I have, and all I’m going to have. Unless by some miracle you know how to produce mass quantities of aspirin using only baking soda and spit, then by all means, please come in. Otherwise, keep walking, or stumbling… whatever.
I have all the weapons I need. I might not own a gun, but I don’t need one. I have a crowbar, a steel pipe, and guts made from concrete. I will beat the bastards. A couple good whacks is all it takes to get your point across. So unless you’re a ninja, or have a gun, or can shoot lasers out of some region of your face I don’t want your assistance. (Then again, if you can do something completely awesome that may entertain us for the rest of the horrid experience; we may have a place for you.) Now that I’ve told you what weapons I have, tell me what weapons you have! A simple kitchen knife? No thanks. A windshield wiper? Hell no. A 12 gauge pump-action Remington shotgun? Get your ass in here already!
Now, part of the reason I don’t want you coming in here is because you can’t. And by can’t I don’t mean “I just won’t allow it”, I mean you literally do not have the ability to get inside my little shelter. Unless of course, I’m the one to let you in. You see, I have barricaded myself in my home. Nothing is getting in through a window, a door, or even a vent. It took me a long time to do all that. It sucked. It took all day nailing this, wedging that, dragging whatever to wherever. If I let you in that would ruin everything I spent days doing. I don’t want to have to do that again, unless of course you have some kick-ass barricading abilities that would serve to outdo even my badassery. I doubt you do. Do you even own a hammer? Do you have any friggin nails? Do you even know what a screwdriver is? What the hell is wrong with you? There’s tons of fucking zombies out there.
Then again, I might want to come into your house. If by some ridiculous twist of fate on the part of the zombies occurs, then I might have to leave. I do have an escape plan, you don’t know that, well you didn’t. So stop reading or something. I know my way to where I’m going to go. No, I’m not going to go to a hospital, or a prison, or a police station, or even a school. Those are the first places people are going to go, instead go somewhere no one would think of going. Go to a nice big warehouse, with heavy doors and no amenities to speak of. No toilet or running water, you can piss in a bucket and gather rainwater. Just make sure you fortify. You always have to fortify. You also always need an escape plan, just in case your awesome fortifying skills aren’t as awesome as you thought they were. (Which mine are)
So let’s recap. Number one; Fuck you. Number two; Fuck you a bit more. You know what, just fuck you, so stop asking for help and become a zombie already; it is most likely less painful than sucking that damn much.
-Ari Racz (Not a zombie)