Listen up! The sarge says 95 percent of us

Listen up! The sarge says 95 percent of us are not coming back. So, to those of you who make it. Kill as many of those zombie bastards as you can! To the rest of you, sayonara.

I quaked in my boots. The only zombies I had ever killed were the ones in video games...and if you count that one time I hit my brother with a frying pan when he was sleep walking.

Ever since then I've only worn boots. They call me the Naked Zombie Slayer. But this time the zombs were real, and it would take more than a frying pan to stop them from

shaming me. "Stop staring! Nudity is totally natural!" I scolded the zombies. They growled awkwardly & stared at each other, & then shed THEIR tatters. Together we proudly marched

to their doom. I escaped it by being alive. I did lose my dingleberries. That almost made me wish for the other death. I held back though. It would be my last naked zombie swarm.

Although that's what I told myself last year. And the year before. Who am I kidding, I love the naked zombie swarm! Sure you'll lose a few things on the way, but it's just so much

better gojng nude while shuffling along with the brain eating horde. It’s easier to clean up without bits of organs caught in your clothes. Some of my comrades cheat by running but

it's more fun this way. I walk along with them on the boulevard of broken dreams. This city is dead. How long can I keep from being identified as food? My less developed brain

thought through these questions and more. My stomach grumbled. Food. How enigmatic. I needed to avoid being food, and yet I too needed food. Is there any left in this city? For Me?

I can not in good conscience recommend the Thai Chicken Curry over rice that i am eating now. It was iffy when fresh and that was ten days ago.