Saturday, January 18, 2014

How I Won The Zombie Apocalypse

I had a dream this morning that I was obliged to escape a wooded setting via a bicycle proffered to me by Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. To my shock the bicycle was in perfect working order, and my legs were sufficient to propel it. It seemed even that the bike was lending its own energy to the task of escaping the unknown, unseen force I knew was pursuing me. I pedaled effortlessly up a hill. The wheels remained in tact. I marveled at the structural integrity of that bike. Didn't it realize this was a dream. Brakes fail. Wheels spin vainly in the mud. 

As I ascended to the top of the hill one more obstacle appeared before me: a corkscrew staircase with no steps. Still being fully conscious I was in a dream I awaited the banana peel as I mounted the staircase. It was not sheer. My wheels did not slip. Indeed I was as confident and proficient in my navigation of the staircase aboard my miracle bicycle as I was on solid ground. 

Then complications arose. Aha I whispered to myself. Now we'll get things back to some state of normalcy. 

How I won the Zombie Apocalypse
Zombies. Finally, I had been overtaken by the sinister complication that had been stalking me. Down the slide I plummeted. Surely now I'll be eaten, I thought. It was a glorious bicycle ride. But to my amazement, at the bottom of the staircase I slid conveniently into an arsenal of zombie-smashing clubs, hammers, and blunt instruments, all of which I found did not have broken handles and were more than efficient at dislodging a zombie from its brain. 

Onward. On a muddy road. Now in a gray van I had driven for a short time and had never found reliable. But now it was. Parked in some thicket to cloak our existence, a buddy and I found the need to burn some paperwork pressing. So we did so right there in the cab of the van. Why it did not set the upholstery on fire I had no idea. Now on foot we tramped down the muddy road, armed with rifles I knew would turn to useless toys the moment we were confronted with an enemy. Which soon we were.

More legions of zombies. This was it. This was the Zombie Apocalypse, and I was in the midst of it with a gun that had been malfunctioning in my dreams since childhood. But not this day. Each time I squeezed the trigger it fired a burst of ammunition. It did not jam. It did not turn to a daffodil. Up the road we marched. He disappeared.

And was replaced by a girl I had fancied for many years in school. We found ourselves together at a barricade, with bleachers set up as if the end of it all had become a sporting event. We were both good shots and dispatched rows of zombies that popped up behind the bleachers as if they were in a video game. Then it was over. We had won the Zombie Apocalypse. I had won the girl. Not a single thing had gone wrong. 

But where was I? Pin It

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