As an officially licensed "Monster Hunter"

forty-four magnum, three cylinders of silver bullets, a positive attitude and a nuclear detonator (just a small one), I walk the halls of haunted hotels and zombie beset mini-malls

and loaded the kiosks with plastic explosives. I rigged the pewter dragons to ignite the mass of mayhem. There is no scent better than barbecuing zombie flesh. It has a sweet

tangy scent, a lot like sweet baby ray's. I always save a bit for later; as long as it's charred, no brain infection. Russian Roulette, zombie-style. I tossed the remaining grenade

but unfortunately my arm came off in the motion, which caused the grenade to land at my feet. This was no time to lose my head, so I ran in a herky jerky sort of way toward the

bus shelter. How was I to know that the grenade had attached itself to my shoe lace. The scream from a previously disinterested teenager alerted my

bodyguards and every last one of those cowardly bastards Jumped towards, an unexpected move, and forced me into the fetal position. "I'm Safe!" Then I noticed the grenade tucked

in popular comedy sidekick Chris Tucker.

Sadly, our protagonist has terrible amnesia that causes him to forget things five seconds after they happen. In this instance, it led to a bunch of screaming and running from the..

Ice cream man. It turned out to be justified, as he had a nuclear bomb. It went of and decimated the Countryside.