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. We was lied to. They got it all wrong! It wasn't supposed to be like this! And them zombies! They ain't right! They ain't supposed to be actin they way they do!

The apocalypse couldn't a showed up at the worst possible time. First, it had to happen when I was back home in Texas, vistin for a spell. Second, it had to be smack dab in the middle of the hottest summer on record. And third, and if that ain't already bad enough, the zombies had to be runners, not shamblers, but runners; and them sumbitches are fast too!

Now, I was like everybody else. I played the games and watched every movie. I never missed an episode of that TV show. I fantasized about the day them zombies would show up 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.

Explain this to me! Why would you keep callin me when:

1.) I know I ain't got your money.
2.) You know I ain't got your money.
3.) We both know you ain't never gonna get your money!

What's so difficult to understand about that?!

They just don't git it through their thick heads and nothin changes, except now they're gettin meaner. This one time, this lady was givin me attitude on the phone, and I gave it right back at her. I said, "Lady, what the hell's wrong with you? Callin me with this bullshit and wastin my Anytime Minutes'!"

Ooh, the Devil came out of her! She cussed me out, up one side and down the other, usin words and combinations I'd never heard of. She even called me back after I hung up on her loud ass. It weren't not a minute later when that phone was ringin off the hook again, and sure enough, it was her. She was screamin, "Oh, hell no! I know you didn't just hang up on me!"

I tell ya what. If you're a zombie with bad credit, you best steer clear of her, cause she'll git ya. She'll git ya real good.

Hmph, I don't know how they kept gittin my phone number. I changed that thing at least every other week. That didn't do no good. It wouldn't be long before my phone'd be ringin all times of the day. It got to the point where I couldn't answer my phone without usin my fake foreign accent.

<Ring> <Ring> <Ring> <Ring>
“Duhh harro.”
“Hello, may I speak with Mr. Swanson?”
"Duh, who?"
"Swanson. I am looking for Mr. Swanson. Is he available?"
"Duh, who?"
"....SWANSON! May I speak with him please?"
“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. But ya know what? I'd come to the decision it was time in my life to start bein a more better person; more sensitive and such. Ya know, I wanted to be more like Owen Wilson. So I took the very next call and was as polite as I could be to that there bill collector. It didn't matter. That bastard was still all uppity; talkin down to me like I was some kind of degenerate!

He said, “Mr. Swanson, we have been more than patient with you. We have given you extensions and numerous grace periods. We have listened to your excuses, and we have tolerated your dreadful and slightly offensive, might I add, attempts at disguising your voice. Which by the way, fooled no one! We demand this issue be resolved immediately! When can we expect payment on the balance due on your account?”

I was like, “Well, 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!”

Ummm.....I guess I might could be more like that there Alec Baldwin. He's nice and all, but still, keeps a temper to himself.

Nope, this here zombie apocalypse ain’t nuthin like it shoulda been. Not one of them movies or any of them games got it right. There ain't no fully stocked grocery stores just waitin to be plundered. There ain't no food, no guns, no shelter. There even ain't no runnin water and no lights. And that don't even make no goddamn sense! Why the hell ain't there no more runnin water or lights? What the hell do zombies have to do with runnin water and electricity?

Hmph. Well, whatever happened, it all went down in a matter of days. Before we knew it, us human were at the bottom of the food chain. Shit, even the pets have turned on us. They ain't stupid. They saw their chance, and they took it too. The other day, I saw this old man git his ass tore up by a pack of Chihuahuas! Chihuahuas!

And don't git me started on them cats. Them little sumbitches are just as bad as them zombies, only meaner and smarter too. But that's a story for another time.

Yup, there ain't no one you can trust, there ain't no state-of-the- art government facility full of super-smart science folks who are gonna fix everything. They sure ain't gonna find no obvious cure hidin in some simple house plant that's been starin back at them this whole time. Nope, and there most definitely ain't no pockets of civilization left out there. No one waitin with open arms to take in a prodigal son who's come wanderin in from the wilderness. None of that happened.

I remember when I used to listen to the news and hear about all these people in the world. We sure do make a mess out of everywhere we go and everything we do. The stupid shit we do and the predicaments we get ourselves into is down right shameful. I betcha the Good Lord Almighty was lookin down and He finally got tired of all the dumb shit we do and said, "I've had it! I've had it with all them folks down there!"

He's right, ya know. Even before the apocalypse came around, I was sayin it all the time. I'd said, "Ya know what? There is so much "dumb" in the world today. There's like a pestilence of "dumb" sweepin across the land." And everyone's knows that the Good Lord don't like "dumb." No siree, Bob. He sure don't like no dumb.

Shit, I remember when I was a little boy, there was these two dumb kids that sat in front of me in school—Michael and Jackson. We was taking a pop quiz one day and them two fools was whisperin loud and noisy-like, thinkin they were gonna cheat off each other. Lord, them two ding dongs were dumber than a bag of dirt. They were so dumb; they couldn't find their ass even if they had both hands in their back pockets.

Jackson leaned over, all sneaky-like and said, "Michael, whatcha got for question number two? What Ol'MacDonald have?"

Michael gave a big old sigh and said, "Dummy! Ol'MacDonald had a farm!"

"Oh," said Jackson. He paused for about a minute. You could see smoke start comin out of his ears from thinkin so hard. Finally, he said, "How you spell farm?"

Michael rolled his eyes and whispered loudly, "Are you stupid or somethin? How do you think you spell farm? It's spelled "E", "I", "E", "I", "O", dummy!"

(Sigh). Last I heard, them two fools got so drunk one weekend, they busted their car up the side of a Dairy Queen. Like I said, "There's a whole lot of "dumb" in the world today." Yes, there is.

But anyways, no one took it seriously when the first of them zombies started popping up. The TV said it was junkies high on that...umm, whatcha- ma-call- it? Oh yeah, bath salts; that's it, bath salts. Hmm, I know they sure do make for some nice smellin bubbles and all, but I never woulda guessed you could get high off of them things. What will they think of next?

Anyways, soon it was all over the news. You'd hear they'd find one over here, eatin on somebody or over there, chewin on someone. Good Lord! Then there was that woman on the TV all the time. She was on every channel, shootin her mouth off with her "alternative facts."

Oh, I swear I saw her the other day. I went into town, and there she was! I knew it was her the moment I laid eyes on her! She was there swishin and swashin up and down the street with the other undead people. When she'd get too close to any of them other zombies, they would stagger away in the opposite direction, like they'd just remembered they had somewhere else to be. Apparently, death hasn't done nothing to improve her social skills. Heh, heh, heh.

Well, you'd never have guessed it, but she looked exactly the same as she do on TV. I swear! She was stumbl'in around with her ol'Bigfoot hair and crazy make-up put on crooked. I betcha anything, that poor thing would still be trying to pass off her "alternative facts" if her tongue hadn't just fallen out of her mouth and carried off by that there hound dog.

Yup, she sure does look like she do in person, yes she do. Bless her heart.

Well, back to my point. I now spend my days hiding from both the living and the dead; oh, and them cats too. You don't want to mess with them critters. They'll git ya and tree ya like big ol'scared coon. That'll be the last thing ya hear—a bunch of "meows" from a swarm of furious felines.

I tell ya, I never thought it'd be like this. I imagined after the apocalypse; I'd be this badass lone road warrior who wandered place to place, gettin into adventures and such. My two silver guns holstered to my side and my shotgun would be my only companions. I'd be in my beat up 1971 Plymouth Barracuda with the radio blastin,

"I'm a cowboy."
"On a steel horse, I ride."
"I'm wanted. (Wanted)"
"Dead or alive."

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 I was fond of when I was a young'n. Ooh, Mama hated them cartoons. One time she caught me watchin one after school, and she howled like a goddamn screech owl, “Sweet Jesus! Why don't that man got no clothes on and why do all'em girls look like whores of Babylon?”

I count my blessins to this very day she never got a good look at what them Thunder Cats were wearin.

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 in front of them pearly gates. I sure do hope they have enough of her beer she likes up there. She can't be going too long without her beer; she gets real mean. Jesus don't tolerate none of that belligerence; no He don't. He'll kick her ass out of Heaven in a second, and I tell ya what. That Devil will have his hands full with her.

I remember one time, she decided that she was gonna quit drinkin because that's what Jesus would want her to do. It weren't but a day when we found her out back going through the empty cans and bottles. She was shakin each one over her mouth to see if she could get anything out of them. Her tongue was like a goddamn snake, lickin the inside of them bottles tryin to get that very last drop. We told her, "Mama, if you could just moderate your consumption of alcoholic beverages, you wouldn't be in this predicament. You know when you git to lickin that liquor, you don't act right. Haven't you got enough sense to see that when you git to drinkin, you get mad? And when you get mad, you start cussin. Then before ya know it, you start fighting. I'm tellin ya; I ain't doin it no more! I ain't takin no more punches from you! And that Dairy Queen is gettin real tired of people bashin their cars into their establishments!"

So, it was during my annual obligatory visit to the farm when the shit done hit the fan. I didn’t know what I was gonna do with Mama! She really was in no shape to be evadin hordes of ravenous zombies and such. There ain't no nice way to put it, but she done definitely let herself go in the past few years. My Aunt Sissy said that she got so big, they were fraid for her life every time she sat in her favorite rockin chair. They took losing two porch cats before they realized something needed to done, poor little bastards. They had to reinforce that ol' chair with lug nuts, just to support her big ass with any level of confidence.

She told everyone that Dr. Harris said her weight gain done come 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.

Well, 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, that real sweet girl with the fucked up eyes. It was a damn shame too, cause it was next to impossible to have a serious conversation with that girl. I tell ya, she was so bugged eyed, she looked like a big ol' bullfrog wearin eye shadow. She had this one eye that was normal, but the other one would do whatever the hell it wanted to. Damn, I dared anybody to try and converse with her normal like and not get a severe case of the heebie-jeebies. You couldn't tell if she was lookin at you or lookin at your boots. You believe me, that's mighty distractin when a fella’s tryin to organize his thoughts proper like.

Back in the day, my mama and her mama used to be friends. Mama told her they should take lil'Jenny up to see them doctors over in Galveston. They'd fix her up real good and all, mama would say. She said she read somewhere that they'd put these wires on her head and shock her until that eye startin actin right. Ooh, they'd shock her good, heh heh. Them doctors would turn up the power to full blast and shock her until her teeth started chatterin. But no, they decided to let that eye be.

Oh, I did hear, though that eye of her's did have some unique talents. I heard it could do things like see around corners and peer through walls, just like magic! But I ain't one to gossip, so ya'll didn't hear that from me.

Oh, she used to babysit for all them Tayler kids, the baddest kids in town. They were the most disrespectful, foul mouthed little shits you'd ever encounter. Just bad to the bone, not a good one in the whole bunch. The only person who could control them monsters was Miss Jenny. On that first night, they were doin what they normally do. Just being bad, talking back, cussin, and not minding no one. It got to be too much for that poor girl, and all that stress got to her. Before you knew it, it set off that crazy eye of her's, and it got to zippin and zappin this way and that! Well, it damn near scared the livin bejesus out them kids. You could see kids divin out windows, bustin down doors and crashin through walls just to get away from her. Although I reckon, there was some good that came out of all that. From that night forward there was no problem disciplinin them kids. All ya had to say was, "If ya'll don't mind me, I'm gonna get ol' Jenny to come look atcha!"

What the hell was I talkin about? Oh, we came out of the house, and there was little Jenny. She was all dirty and tore up like she had a run-in with a pack of ol'pissed off coyotes. The three of us locked eyes. It felt like we stared each other down for eternity. 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. Well, whatever goes on in their heads, I could tell it was workin overtime trying to decide which one of us would taste better. Not to be insensitive or nuthin, but it wasn't a difficult decision to make if ya were lookin for more bang for ya buck. I don't care how long you've been dead; you can tell the difference between a snack and a banquet. And this girl looked hungry too! A low growl began to emerge from the girl. It got louder and louder, then she charged at Mama.

What happened next, I swear on my daddy's grave 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. They rolled around a couple of times and lucky for her, Mama ended up on top of the girl. Heh, heh, heh. That girl was flatter than a pancake. Under the weight of Mama's big ass, that poor crazy eye of hers looked like it was about to pop out and shoot across the sky; never to be seen again.

That's when it happened. Mama turned and noticed that in the midst of that scuffle, her last beer had been knocked over. Scramblin to her knees, she gave a big ol' yell and hollered, "Sweet Jesus! Gawd in Heaven...my beer!" Heh, heh, heh. Lord, Mama, was mad now. She was madder than a wet cat on a rainy day.

In all the confusion and screams of, "Quick Billy, go get that towel over there! Go on, get it!" Jenny had unflattened herself and was on her feet again. She ran full speed and grabbed hold of the old woman with all her might. Through the growls and snarls, she then bit down on Mama's throat... and then...then out of the blue she stopped! She grew calm and quiet; then she looked up at me (well kind of, but I've already sufficiently beat that crazy-eyed horse to death). This look of confusion spread across her face. No! It was more like bewilderment. She sniffed at the bloody mess she made of my mama. She smacked her lips a couple of times like she was tastin somethin peculiar. Finally, she made a face like she had just tasted the nastiest thing to ever exist on God's green Earth. The look of revulsion that emerged from face almost made me bust out laughin. Then it hit me, "I knew that face!" I knew it very well! Mama had given Miss Jenny "Nyquil-face." Ya know! That face ya make after drinkin that green shit for a cold! That got me thinkin. After all this time, you'd think they woulda come up with somethin better tastin 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 it 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, if anythin ever tried to eat her up, it would either spit her out or curl up and die.”

There was nuthin much more I could do for Mama; she was pretty much done in. I made sure it was permanent. She was a proud woman, and I knew she'd want to keep her dignity even in death. It's the least I could do because truth be told, ya’ll know there ain’t nuthin more pathetic than when a fat zombie tries to run you down.

{By-user|KillaHawke1}}