Chris Beebout Assignment 10

     Zombies have attacked, huh. Well, I myself have never really believed in such shenanigans, which has left me frightfully underprepared. I’m looking out the front window cautiously. No, I don’t see any undead. Maybe it hasn’t reached Kentucky yet CHEESE AND CRACKERS THERE’S ONE AT THE BACK DOOR

     …

     Yep. And it’s still at the back door. It moronically presses its garish mug to the glass, gurgling in a cliché manner, no doubt. It sort of flails its arms in the direction of the doorknob, not quite knowing how to operate such a protuberance. I take a moment to ponder the inherent intellectual supremacy of humankind, then reluctantly approach the door. Ugh, I’m inches from the poor sap. I make sure the door was locked GOOD GADZOOKS IT WAS UNLOCKED THE WHOLE TIME I fumble with the lock as panic impedes my efforts, finally securing the entrance nonetheless. The unruly corpse ululates audibly from the other side of the transparent divide, presumably befuddled at its inability to reach out and turn me into dinner. Whew. Mentally, I rescind my earlier arrogant boasts, reminding myself to stay humble— after all, humanity is the race falling to the zombies, not the other way around. So, trapped like a rat in a cage and wholly without the motivation to live in such a world as this, I firmly resolve eat all the food in my house (or not) and go about the unpleasant business of sluggishly expiring in my bedroom.