Zombies.

(Before I begin, I shall state my purpose for writing this particular blog post: I have been too serious lately. I’ve been thinking too much lately. I’ve been too beautifully consumed with enlightening thoughts lately. I feel that my reader might be getting bored and lulled into my patternized thoughts. So, I’m mixing it up a bit. I’ve posted nothing like this before. (It’s also crucial to mention that I can count on one hand how many video games I’ve played in my entire life. Nor have I read any zombie books/guides.) So, I might be completely oblivious to the entire issue at hand, but, regardless, this is how I intend to kick some zombie ass. Cheers.)

Alright kids, I’m going to reveal my plan of defense against the Zombie Apocalypse. It’s inevitable that the apocalypse will happen. By nature of it being an “apocalypse” every single person will die. Including you. Including me. No one will survive. My goal, then, is to slay as many damn zombies as possible before being overcome by the living dead. Let me briefly fill you in about the nature of zombies as I understand them. They are dead humans that are brought back to life by a scientist in a lab somehow (it’s not important). They are the fittest version of their living self while still being dead. Their brains don’t work, nor do their hearts. But they can still function. They are blazing fast and startlingly strong and are attracted to the scent of humans but they have no coordination. This is how I understand zombies to work. If it’s wrong or inaccurate, I don’t care because my defensive tactics are impeccable.

Okay, so I pointed out that my goal is to demolish as many hellions as possible despite the knowledge of inevitable death. According to my understanding of zombie-nature, the only way to defeat a zombie is by separating the head from its shoulders or inflicting substantial damage to the head of the thing. As soon as the news reaches my ears that America has been infected by zombies I will immediately move to Virginia. I have, in my uncle’s house, prepared a highly armed Dixie Chopper (a very agile four wheel lawn mower that is controlled by two handles that individually direct the motion of the mower). On this Dixie Chopper are several reserve batteries to reload and re-energize. Along with the batteries are two 50 gallon side tanks of spare gas. Approximations show that the best Dixie Chopper burns about 1 gallon of gas per hour. That gives me roughly 130 hours of chopping. So, anyway, I’ll be heading to Arlington Cemetery in Virginia. Why? Because it is the largest most organized cemetery in the country. It would require very little skill in the art of Dixie maneuverability; I'd just ride up and down the rows. 

I will take my Dixie Chopper lawn mower to the cemetery and run over all the zombies that are popping up out of the ground because they’ve been bit and are rising back from the dead. They will be no challenge to the 52 inch blade of my lawn mower. However, they will eventually start popping up way too fast for me to keep up with. What I neglected to mention before is that my lawn mower will have two reinforced, super sturdy iron rods shaped like hockey sticks with blades protruding from them. When the zombies begin to rise from the graves and run after me, I will eject my blades, run them over. This allows me to cover a much wider spread with my “bladed wings”. Also I can just spin around in circles which will clear a twenty foot radius, giving me room to maneuver, re-adjust, and buy me time to come up with a game plan of attack.

Obviously, there will come a point where it is just altogether overwhelming and they begin to jump on to my lawn mower. Well, while in seminary I met a fine man. His name is José. He was our Hispanic maintenance guy. Fantastic dude. I reckon that he’ll be game for my plan. (If not, I’m accepting applications and will be hosting tryouts if you want to be my teammate in this endeavor.) Anyway, there will be a seat attached right behind the driver seat and José will be slightly raised above me, the driver. He is expertly trained in sniperhood. He’s a damn good shot. He’ll be responsible for the long-range picking off of zombies. He is also responsible for refilling the gas tank and changing the batteries. When the point comes that the zombies become way too challenging, José has the option to employ the self-eject button in which he will be launched into the air while attached to a parachute. But that’s his choice. I see that as a last ditch effort to avoid the zombies but it is inevitable that the whole land is infested at this point and he will be immediately transformed to zombieness once he has landed and is infected by the bite of a zombie.

I don’t really want to have a two man team but it’s better than going solo and it’s definitely better than a team of more than two because if one person within the “family” is infected then it will be much easier for that now-zombie to infect the other members. If José was to be bitten, I would have no choice but to ditch him. And vice versa. I would want José to shoot me in the head if I turned on him.

Anyway, once the point comes that I can’t take it anymore or my fuel is running low, I retreat to my house in Virginia. This house is highly prepared for the specific circumstance of a Zombie Apocalypse. First of all, I will have many years worth of food stored in the attic and the basement. Next, the house functions off the grid. There is zero external dependency: no heat, no electricity, no water, nothing comes from the outside world. It is positioned next to a river: hydroelectric power. Windmills: wind power. Solar panels: solar power. Plus, I have a wood stove for warmth and hot water. Meanwhile, there is a generator that is capturing and holding all excess energy for future use.

This house will probably be invaded at some point in the future. What’s my defense, you ask? I have treadmills surrounding the house. Not just one row deep but two rows deep. When the zombies eventually stumble upon my house they will run at it and merely get caught on the treadmills as they are trying to approach my house. Not to mention, I have a turret that protrudes from the top of my house in which I will be able to pick them off with assorted weaponry: grenades, bow and arrow, pistols, shotguns, sniper guns, bazookas, etc.

Eventually, though, I’m sure that they will be able to reach me when one of the treadmills dies or something. Then, I guess, my time has come. But you can bet your ass that I did my damnedest to save humanity. In the great words of William Wallace, "FREEEEDOM!!"