Zombie Apocolypse

When M was little we talked often about apocalyptic survival. He thought he’d fare quite well, particularly against zombies. I told him he best just leave my dead weight behind, to which he devised many plans to keep me alive, even insofar as suggesting I used a mallet or bat for combat, given my strregth abilities. I thought this was adorable, but told him it would all be over the second I lost my glasses.

Then I had eye surgery last year, so I can’t use that excuse anymore. I also used to argue that I would need meds, but the obvious solution to M was that we raid the pharmacy on the corner first. So considerate, the child was. He also recommended I keep the croquet mallets I had by the door handy. Resourceful child, also. 

Anyway, I’m still not living through the apocalypse. 

I love end of the world stories. Maybe it’s my deep-seated morbidity, but alas, I love to watch hypothetical endings of a great civilization.  Give me your disasters, your diseases, your mutations! I shall indulge in them all..  but when the time comes…brother, I am OUT.

Mark and I have been watching The Last of Us on HBO.  We just finished episode 3, a beautiful love story about a doomsday prepper who falls for a random who wanders onto his property. I understand how Bill, the prepper, made it through the end times…he had every intention. His partner, Frank, is more my speed, though…he was taken by surprise, ran off on his own, and found himself trapped and left for dead. That’s me, folks, except some burly homesteader isn’t going to find my sorry self.

I do not believe I will be sticking around for any end of the world scenario. And I know I’m not prepared at all, you see. Just Monday, we here in Buffalo NY had a flippin’ earthquake. Did we take shelter in doorways and bathtubs and check on neighbors after? No- we ran directly to the window while checking our Twitter feeds. Guys…we are not cut out for the apocalypse. I mean, perhaps if it comes in snow form, our Buffalonian stock could make it for a bit, but that’s still unlikely.   Especially if you add zombies to the mix.

So glasses and meds aside, I’m not gonna make it. I don’t have the physical or mental capabilities. I am no proponent of suicide, of course, but that’s probably one of two circumstances where I would swallow a bottle of pills (the other circumstance is terminal illness, just fyi.) Although, provided M really did manage to take over the pharmacy. I might knock down a zombie or two on my way out, but I’m not trying to apocalypse, folks.

Then the little voice in my brain whispers: “Liar! You know the inherent desire for life that humans possess! You will do whatever it takes.”  Yeah, probably.  Stupid instinct…ah well.  Guess I SHOULD keep those croquet mallets by the door, just in case.