All About Zombiemates
"Duff!" April said, "Let's get going!"
"Wait a little!" I answered.
"Get your butt outta there and let's get going!"
"I CAN'T! I'M CRAPPING!"
"But there is a bunch of freaking ZOMBIES coming after us!" April said, "So try to hurry up!"
Oh yeah. That's the life of a zombie apocalypse survivor. You can't even do your things in peace 'cuz there they come, the zombies. You gotta find somewhere quiet, like a library, and do the unsaid in peace. When you want to eat, you gotta crash into a coffee shop or something like that and threaten the shopkeeper with whatever weapon you have (In my case, my giant pencil) and get him to give you free food.
I came up with this tip during the time the mind is empty and your concentration focuses on getting wastes out:
TIP No. 3: In a zombie apocalypse, try to belong to a survivor group. And never eat burritos.
You'll soon see why.
Anyway, it's quite fundamental to have other people with you. They're really helpful, 'cuz they can crack watermelons open for you or steal money or tell you how much is six times seven. But the bad thing, you have to give them maintenance. For example:
Individual: I'M HUNGRAAAAH!
Dulcibella (I put in a random name): Eat.
Individual: COOK SOMETHING. LIKE BORSCHT.
Dulcibella: What's borscht?
Individual: OR SHCMIT.
Dulcibella: What's that?
Individual: OR MONDONGO.
Dulcibella: If you'd just tell me what the hell those things are, I'd help.
Individual: OR CANECHO.
Dulcibella: Canecho your butt.
As you can see, it's hard. Always. Especially if they eat both Caribbean and Russian food nobody cares about. And I know that better than anyone else, because was the cook of three guys. The trio of destruction, the triforce, Godzilla.
Butch, Kerberos and April.
Remember the guys that appeared out of nowhere back when I acted like a zombie? Well, they made me join that wacko club of theirs and told me that there were much more people beside them, (lie) they also told they were highly prestigious (lie), they had sexy boys (unfortunately, lie) and they told me they had the best place to sleep (true... sort of). And I fell for it completely.
The truth is that they're just a trio of idiots claiming that they'll end the apocalypse. I don't know why, where or when they met each other, but they formed their club called ANTI ZOMBIES SQUAD. How original. And they chose an abandoned four star hotel as their temporary base (it was abandoned and free 'cuz the owner was eaten by zombies).
The hotel was awesome, but it didn't have beds. WHAT HOTEL DOESN'T HAVE BEDS? When I asked April about it, she told me Butch had eaten them.
TIP No. 4: In a Zombie Apocalypse, always remember to stay away from Butch's mouth. Or any mouth come to think of it.
"Hey, April," Kerberos pulled the sleeve from April's hood. "Remember."
They exchanged glances and then looked at me. Had I done something wrong? "You how howta cook?" April asked casually.
"Only ice tea and roasted yak in pigeon guts."
"Yuck. Only that?"
"So you know how to cook?"
"SAY YES OR NO."
"YES OR NO."
April rubbed the skin between her eyes in frustration. She looked so mad I pitied her, so I just said yes and her expression changed bipolarly.
They all grinned perversely. Kerberos took out a spatula and spoon from her gigantic rainbow sleeves and handed them to me. "Then you're our cook," She said.
I was blanker that last year's math test.
"You're our cook," April repeated, taking off her hood. "Or do you think we're gonna starve to death? You can eat our scraps, don't worry. Anyway, I want a banana sandwich and Butch said he wants wood. Go. Go. GO I SAID. SCRAM."
I didn't budge.
"Don't wanna?" April raised an eyebrow.
I was still stuck in the equations.
"Oh, ok." She rolled her eyes. "Kerberos found burritos a while ago but I didn't eat them 'cuz I hate Mexican food and Butch eats only wood. Don't ask me why. Let's eat that if you want, anyway."
I finished my first exercise. "Okay."
Again, I fell for it. I scarfed my burros down as calm as a strawberrying monkey. Of course, I didn't notice I was the only one eating them. Nor did I notice their evident grins of victory.
"You already ate. Now get me wood." Butch growled as soon as the last piece of tortilla had vanished. Suddenly, my exam was finished.
"What? You're really gonna... you want me too... am I really your COOK?"
"Naaaw. You're Lyon rescuing the president's daughter."
"I'M NOT A SEXY MAAAN!" I shrieked as I ran away from the hotel, waving my arms in the air as I always do when I run. Those guys weren't gonna turn me into a slave. Those guys weren't gonna―why the hell had they given me burritos?
My guts answered my question in the gassiest way possible. Oh my god, the burritos had laxatives. WHY LAXATIVES? Aaah, now I needed to go to the bathroom! But where? I was the middle of nowhere, a highway full of trees.
Trees. Hell yeah.
I went to my favorite tree and began with the process. It was so peaceful... until I heard a drunken voice. Damn. GODDAMN. The trio was coming! What now? I had to conceal my pooping presence. Was I gonna make it?
Unluckily for me, the other guys DID see me because out came a freaking spider and fell on top of my nose and I screamed.
You bet this was horribly embarrassing.
"Now," April said to the pine where I was freeing wastes, "Let's just go."
Didn't they have any respect? I was GOING TO THE BATHROOM FOR GOD'S SAKE.
"CCCCOOOMMMMEEEEHHHH!" Kerberos shrieked, and suddenly, we heard noises. Meatball-stuck-in-the-throat gurgles.
"You guys did too much noise," Butch said.
April slapped her forehead. "Man, and all of this because we gave her sleeping pills."
Kerberos gasped. "Sleeping pills? Oops, I thought you had said laxatives."
"WHAT THE HELL DOES ONE THING HAVE TO DO WITH THE OTHER? (Note: Oh, so they didn't know about my current situation. Thank god.) Oh, so she's crapping."
"Duff. We have to go. LET'S. GET. GOING!"
And then you know the rest. Like I said, being in a zombie apocalypse is way more difficult than it's shown in movies. They only show action scenes and bites, and sometimes a little personal stuff, and their protagonists are all good-looking and physically very apt for these things, hence Lyon. But they never mention how people, normal people like me survive. They never mention things about making necessities on a poor tree while the undead are coming for your brain. They never go into "boring" stories about the everyday people you meet.
Hollywood is so unreal. Now I can say goodbye to the sexy boy.
"Guys!" April commanded, lifting her fist into the air, "Let's fight 'eeeem!"
"Don't be so stupid," Butch growled, "They're at least thirty times more than us. YOU go fight if you want, but I... wait, didn't you say the redhead ova' there was intelligent?"
Intelligent, me? Oh world, what have you turned into? They all stared at the tree (aka me). Dammit.
"I-I...I can help," I gulped, nervous. I hated people staring at me, and worse if I had recently peed and was putting on my freakin' shorts. Perverts. "But first STOP STARING AT ME AND GET TOILET PAPER!"
The zombies were getting closer each time. There were hundreds, and I'm not exaggerating. Perhaps they were attracted by the noise. That would mean that the city had no person on it anymore besides us, probably. I gulped.
"Ah whatever!" I cleaned myself with the first thing I saw. Then I stood up, clearing my throat. "Everyone, follow me!" I shrieked, and I began making gurgling sounds and dancing thriller.
The trio stared at me like I was crazy, but the zombies were each time closer. Finally, they all began dancing.
"ARBLARBLARBL!" We shrieked in unison. "ARBLARBLBRAAAINSSS!"
"Au!" April imitated Michael Jackson. We all stopped, staring at her, and Butch said a bad word.
The zombies were smarter than that, surprisingly. The master plan hadn't worked, and we didn't have a plan B. None of those guys had been smart enough to bring a weapon, and we were being surrounded. It seemed like a Hippie, Hulk, a Reaper and yours truly would soon become zombies.
We had to come out with a plan soon.