The Zombie Apocalypse Sucks

This is some ol’bullshit!

I tell ya what; this here zombie apocalypse ain’t livin up to what it was supposed to be. To top it all off, it had to happen at the worst possible time!

First, it had to happen the one time of the year I would so happen to be in Texas. Second, it had to be smack dab in the middle of the hottest summer on record. Third, and if it ain't bad enough already, them zombies had to be runners, not shamblers, but runners; and them sumbitches are fast too!

I was like everybody else; I played the games, watched the movies, and never missed the TV shows. I fantasized about the day them zombies would come and bite the shit out of everyone, especially all of them sumbitches at the credit card companies. I was so sick of them bill collectors harassin me like a bunch of ol'buzzards. I caint remember the last time I didn’t answer my phone without a fake foreign accent.


 * 
 * “Duhh harro.”
 * “Hello, may I speak with Mr. Swanson?”
 * “Duh, he no here!”
 * “When do you expect…”
 * “Duh, he no live here no more! He move to ‘udder’ place! You call here no more!”

Eventually, they caught onto my ruse and I had to speak with an actual bill collector. He was all condescendin and said, ''“Mr. Swanson, when can we expect payment on the balance due on your account?”''

I was like, “''You can expect payment anytime you'd like! How about this, why don't you pick a date and we’ll both be surprised on that day when you still ain’t got your money!''”

Nope, this zombie apocalypse ain’t nuthin like it should be. There ain't no fully stocked grocery stores just waitin to be plundered. There ain't no runnin water, no lights, no food. Shit, even the pets have turned on us. The other day, I saw this old man get his ass kicked by a Chihuahua, a Chihuahua!

There ain't no fortified mansions sittin empty, just waitin to be occupied. There ain't no pockets of civilization, waitin with open arms to take in the remainin prodigal sons wanderin in from the wilderness. None of that happened.

I always imagined that I would be this badass lone road warrior who wandered place to place, gettin into adventures and such. My pistols and my shotgun would be my only companions. Oh, and a sword! I’d want a sword too! I’d carry it on my back like He-Man done did in them cartoons when I was a youngster. Mama hated them cartoons. One time she caught me watchin it after school and she howled like a goddamn screech owl, “''Sweet Jesus! Why does that man got no clothes on and all them girls look like whores of Babylon?''”

I still count my blessins she never gotta good look at them Thunder Cats.

Poor Mama, bless her heart. I had to put her down myself, but she's in a better place now. She's up in Heaven with Jesus, bummin cigarettes off of St. Peter. I was doin my annual obligatory visit when the shit hit the fan. I didn’t know what I was gonna do, Mama really was in no shape to be evadin hordes of ravenous zombies. She definitely let herself go in the past few years. Aunt Sissy said that she got so big, they were afraid for her life every time she sat in her favorite rockin chair. They had to reinforce that ol'chair with lug nuts, just to hold her big ass up in it with confidence. She told everyone that Dr. Harris said her weight gain was from a glandular problem. Hmph, a glandular problem? I said, “Mama, the only gland you have problems with is your saliva gland." Heh, heh, heh. But honestly, she did have a weight problem. She could not “weight” to eat. Hahaha! I shoulda been one of them professional joke tellers.

We were about to hightail it out from the farm when that girl from up yonder showed up on our front porch. What was her name again? Jenny? Yeah, Jenny, the one with the fucked up eyes. It was damn near impossible to have a serious conversation with that girl. She was so bugged eyed, she look like a frog wearin eye shadow. She had this one eye that was normal, but the other one would do whatever the hell it wanted to. Damn, when you tried to have a normal conversation with her, you couldn't tell if she was lookin at you or your boots. That's mighty distractin when a fella’s tryin to speak his mind.

We came out of the house and there she was, all dirty and tore up like she had a run-in with a pack of pissed off coyotes. The three of us locked eyes. It felt like we stared each other down for hours. One bloodshot eye stared at Mama and the other one fixated on me. Well, more like in the general location of my left elbow, but I understood her intent. Whatever goes on in their heads, I could tell it was workin overtime trying to decide which one of us would be a more tasty meal. Not to be insensitive or nuthin, but it wasn't really a difficult decision, no matter how long you've been dead. A low growl began to emerge from the girl. It got louder and louder, then she charged at Mama.

What happened next is the honest truth. If I'm lyin, then rattlesnakes don't like to shake their rattles. Lil Jenny jumped on top of Mama and they crashed to the ground. She then bit down on Mama's throat and out of the blue she stopped! She looked up at me (well kind of, but I've already beat that dead horse enough), she gave me this look of confusion, sniffed at the bloody mess she had made of my mama, smacked her lips a couple of times like she just got hit with the after taste of somethin peculiar, and finally made a face like she had just tasted the nastiest thing to ever exist on God's green Earth. The look of revulsion that spread across her face almost made me bust out laughin. Mama had given Miss Jenny "Nyquil-face", ya know, that face ya make after drinkin that green shit. That got me thinkin, after all this time, you'd think they woulda come up with somethin better than that nasty "Green Death" flavor. Cherry tastes like shit too!

Anyways, that gave me the opportunity to gather my wits about myself and I pulled out my handgun. I aimed real careful like at the face that was now stickin its tongue out and gaggin. Before I pulled that trigger, I thought to myself, ''“I knew it! I knew it! That old woman was so mean, that if anythin ever tried to eat her up, it would either spit her out or curl up and die.”''

Mama was pretty much done in. I made sure it was permanent. She was a proud woman and I knew she would want to keep her dignity. It's the least I could do because ya’ll know this to be the truth: there ain’t nuthin more pathetic than when a fat zombie tries to run.