Biographical Musings from the Zombie Jar
A motorcyle won’t know enough not to go over the hill. Your trusty horse will. These guys are all decked out to do it right except for the flimsy clothing. Once they get their chainmail or motorcycle leather, they will be ready.
If not, did you buy your motorcycle?
Elevators are scary. I keep forgetting how they work.
Ehllvv Dohrrrrzz garhee. Ahhggeeb vohrgehddihg owday uhhrgg.
Or anywhere else during the Apocalypse. Motorcycle. Bike. Some device that goes off road. I’m pretty sure they have not paved the Rainbow Bridge. I’m also sure that the roads are likely to be impassable once swarms of the dead actually appear.
Note to those in New York who are obviously in the early stages of zombification: The gas won’t come up out of the ground because liquids do not flow up without electricity or a manual pump of some kind. The fact that so many of us don’t seem to know this is almost as scary as the zombies.
The thing is, we want to go to Asgard. Of course, anyone would want to go to Asgard. But I fear our motivation may not be a desire to actually see Thor’s Hammer. No, we sense that the Day of The Dead may be near and we are seeking shelter and maybe a place in line at the Norwegian buffet. But Asgard doesn’t automatically say “refugee camp” to me.
Preparedness. Because those zombies aren’t going to shoot themselves. If they put the roadblocks up on the rainbow bridge, you’d better have water, ammo, food and a flashlight.
Sometimes I sneak M & Ms.
Zuhhmmddeyimzzahh zzneeegh eemuhnemmzzz.
Or did they? These are exactly the type of boys to go poking zombies with sticks. When the Apocalypse arrives, how will we know where our children are? At this point, society has so little discipline and so little chain of command, that whole schools may go over before anyone sounds the alarm. (What, she’s not home? I’ll talk to her when she comes home.)
Or did they? These are exactly the type of boys to go poking zombies with sticks. When the Apocalypse arrives, how will we know where our children are? At this point, society has so little discipline and so little chain of command, that whole schools may go over before anyone sounds the alarm. (What, she’s not home? I’ll talk to her when she comes home.)
Exactly what is on that plate? Notice the expression. If this man has not gone over, he is probably in the later stages of viral amplification. Beware. At the very least, this party is reaching the point where it’s time to go home.
Exactly what is on that plate? Notice the expression. If this man has not gone over, he is probably in the later stages of viral amplification. Beware. At the very least, this party is reaching the point where it’s time to go home.
