At yet another funeral for Holmes, some grimy

At yet another funeral for Holmes, some grimy urchin, far from its squalid ward, addressed me. "My dear Watson, it seems I am become to some extent an hermaphrodite." Astonished, I
said: "A good day to you too, Holmes! Back from the dead even before the minister's eulogy is over? And why do you sound like an urchin GIRL?" "Minor accident with a foil, Watson."
Sasha looked up from Doyle. A strange, oddly Sherlockian character had just sat down beside her. "Don't look around, but right behind you is Dr. Trumball, currently wanted in 17 co
untries, for impersonating a physician and taking advantage of...". Doyle had heard enough. He signaled Sasha to duck, took out his miniature-revolver and just
started aiming blindly in all directions while frantically pulling the trigger-nothing,just the sound of empty chambers."Doyle,you idiot!",Sasha yelled.She rose and jumped towards
the ledge, before the rest of the bridge collapsed behind her, sent the zombies, and with it her friends, tumbling into the dark, inky abyss.
Cut to black. A title card which reads "One Year Later" slowly fades in. We open on an idyllic suburban neighborhood. No signs of any zombie activity here. We see evidence of a
once busy neighborhood, now abandoned after a mandatory evacuation due to the impending zombie apocalypse. I look down and see something shiny on the ground. It's a
mint condition Charizard from the Pokémon TCG Base Set. Well, zombies or no, I could sell this baby for at least $100 on eBay then buy my apocalypse survival gear with those funds.
They were sold to some guy on Pluto, and the postage cost me more than the projected profits. In the end I didn't survive the apocalypse. Then again, who ever does?

Started: 2016-04-30 19:40:00
Finished: 2018-07-12 14:59:30

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