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TRIGGER WARNING:
11:47 AM The Outfitter’s Store:
We pulled into the somewhat deserted parking lot of the shopping center, only eyeing a few members of the undead community. There was no telling how many were inside. I felt as if things might not go so well.
We peeked in the doorway. They had power. I guess that would be the case all over. I mean, zombies don’t know how to turn power off, do they? I guess since I had power at home, it would stand to reason that there would be power here, too, right? What about all those movies in Hollywood where the power goes out and the zombies are attacking? How did they do it?
(Note to self, if we get out of this alive, write a letter to Hollywood explaining the differences between their movies and real life.)
Cautiously moving in, we noticed two immediately to the right of the doors feeding on some poor schlep, who had the same idea we did. That wasn’t a good sign. Hopefully, they would be too busy devouring their… lunch to notice us slowly walk past them to the back of the store where the real goodies were. I hoped that would have been the case, I really didn’t feel like dealing with more, right now. Besides, I really had to pee.
Jim made the motion to take them out, and I understood why. It wouldn’t take them long to finish and move on to other hopeful, tasty entrées… like us.
We were spotted as we entered the next set of doors. They looked at us, then each other, and back to us. The one on the left had a bit of entrails hanging from his mouth that fell out as he let out his moan. It fell to the floor with a barely audible, disgusting, splat sound.
(I almost hurled again, right there in the doorway.)
They stammered toward us with the speed and accuracy of two sea turtles. Jim and I both looked at one another, unsheathing our swords. I sliced left, contacting my zombie’s right temple and embedding the sword in his skull. It got stuck.
(Oh, yuck. Insert dry heave sound effect, here, Hollywood.)
My zombie fell straight to the floor, while Jim’s took a few more strokes. His zombie fell to the ground quivering like a Jello Jiggler. That was kinda gross.
We made our way to the back of the store, where the weaponry lay waiting just for us - if this was Hollywood, there’d be clouds parting with an angelic sound and rays of light shining on our golden ticket - guns. I looked back at Jim as he grabbed a shopping cart. That was a brilliant idea Jim. Load it up with everything we need. And that’s just what we intended to do as we made our way to the back.
I still needed to make a pit stop.
I told Jim to hold up by the restroom while I went in. If there was trouble I’d yell… and kick… and scream… and… well, you get the idea.
As I opened the door, I poked my head in to see if the coast was clear. To my amazement, there was someone standing at the urinal, motionless. That wasn’t a good sign. I motioned to Jim to take a look for himself. He to, agreed. That wasn’t a good sign.
We walked in together.
(Note: not together, together, but sort of - in a manly sort of together; the kind of manly that goes in toting swords and looting for weaponry, together. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, mind you - It’s just not Jim’s cup of tea. Hopefully, he doesn’t murder me in my sleep for that comment. Not that he’s around when I sleep - not since we were kids. Again, that's not to say that there’d be anything wrong with that.)
*ahem*
Jim slowly walked up to the man (?) at the urinal. It sounded like a zombie, sort of breathing heavy, and kind of a moaning sound. There was only one way to find out.
Jim poked it with his sword, gently giving it a nudge. It didn’t move, but a strange noise came out of it, like a half moan and half snort.
We didn’t know what that was about. Jim nudged him/it again. This time it was a full outright snort, and his/its head shook back and I could see his eyes open from the side.
This six foot and something inches tall man was asleep at the urinal and we woke him up.
He quickly turned around (Yes, it was still hanging out of his pants) and yelled at us to stop poking him and wait our turn.
What the hell was that? Apparently, he didn’t realize that he was asleep, while peeing.
Jim offered to take him back outside to explain everything that had happened, but apparently he already knew. He was there for the same reason as us. He and his friend needed supplies.
(Coincidently, his friend was the one being eaten as we came in, and our new friend was in the same boat I was. He had to pee, and told his friend to stand guard. That didn’t go too well… for his friend. It would also seem that our new friend’s name was Bob.)
Jim explained what had happened, while I… took care of business. When I finished, I came out to find them in the “Bow” aisle. I noticed something on Bob that I didn’t see before. I guess my head was a lot clearer now that my bladder was empty. Bob had a bandage on his neck and part of his shoulder. Part of the reason I didn’t notice was because he was wearing a jacket, and of course, the other part was because I really had to pee.
I asked Bob what happened. He said he was bitten by “one of those zombie ass-hats.”
Jim looked at me with concern. I gave him a reassuring look that we needed to kill Bob. (Sorry, Bob, but you’re going to become one of them soon, and we weren’t taking any chances… At least, that’s what Hollywood always told us would happen.)
I told Bob to hang tight and be the lookout for a few moments and watch out for the zombies while Jim and I got together the weapons needed for everyone to do their job (not including Bob, but we weren’t telling him that).
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