I spend far too many hours of the day watching the E! Network. Far too many hours than is recommended for the average human being, and far far far! too many hours for a man. A lot of men probably do watch E! I'm probably just self conscious for no definable reason. It's amazing how many hours can slip by as I sit in darkness, watching E! images flicker on screen...I become a Zombie every time I turn to channel 151.
So, Zombies it is then...
I don’t know much, but I do know one thing for sure; I will survive the Zombie Apocalypse. I have no physical evidence to support this claim. I can’t shoot a gun (I can’t even aim), I’m not particularly fast, or stealthy, or strong. I possess no basic survival instincts; I hate camping, I can’t build a fire - from scratch or otherwise - and I can’t hunt. I assume I’d be able to exercise basic foraging skills if required (however these foraging skills may be limited to certain circumstances involving, say, abandoned supermarkets), but this is a stretch. Essentially I have no evidence to support my claim. But, when the zombie wars start – and they will - I will outlast you. I will survive and you will not. I will help repopulate earth (or more likely, Glasgow), while you will become one of them. This is an irrefutable truth. I don’t like it any more than you.
How, you ask, can I make such a bold claim? It’s simple. Because, in my 22 years I have essentially achieved nothing; surely God won’t deny me this. (I’m not really sure how God fits into the whole zombie-doom scenario, but it’ll all work out, trust me). He can’t. It’s just not feasible. I will have luck on my side. I will catch a break for once. God owes me one; he let them cancel Gilmore Girls.
Maybe I’ll manage to band together with a group of survivors, board up my home, stock up on supplies, guns and ammunition (that I can’t use) and wait it out while everyone else cleans up the mess. Perhaps I may occasionally use my Mark McGuire signature Louisville Slugger to maintain order on the streets. Maybe, I’ll sleep through it all (win and win!). I don’t know how it’ll work. I just know that it will. I can feel it “In my plummmms.”
So when is this hypothetical end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it scenario going to occur? I have no idea. None. But, when it does – I have a plan. My plan is genius, if I do say so myself. I plan on having no plan. I’m going to survive thanks to pure dumb luck. I’ll work it out as I go along.
Now, you’re probably thinking to yourself “Wow, this guy’s screwed when it all hits the fan,” but this is not true. You’re probably just jealous because you, my friend, are boned! My reasoning is sound. I have drawn it from history. We see that through the entire history of recorded time no one who ever had a plan made it happen. Not one person. Ever. Think I’m lying? Satan, Cain, those idiots in the tower of Babel, Genghis Khan, Golum, Napoleon, Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin, the KKK, The BNP, Osama Bin Laden, Homer Simpson, Pinky or The Brain, O.J. Simpson, Rebecca De Mornay in “The Hand that Rocks the Cradle”, Paris Hilton, Scientologists and the entire nation of France…to name a few. The only person that springs to mind, when considering who attempted and successfully accomplished a pre-determined plan, is LeBron James (and that plan was orchestrated by Dwayne Wade, so go figure). His move to Miami defied the universes laws of order. Basically it’s been done once; I can’t happen again. So I’m not going to sweat it. When the time comes I’ll make myself ready.
If countless teenage girls across the world magically become” mothers” when their spawn arrives all covered in placenta (as MTV’s “Teen Mom” teaches us) then that logic dictates that I too will be ready, magically, when the time arrives.
It’s like Geordie Shore. I can’t explain why, but I just know what’s going to happen in an episode before I watch. I know that Gaz will sleep with Charlotte, and she will then assume that he is in love with her. Then the next night the whole gang will go to a nightclub somewhere in Newcastle, where Gaz will inevitably hook up with a blonde tramp-like-type while Charlotte looks on sadly, he will take her back to the house where they will have vigorous sex in the garden shed, while everyone else sits in the hot-tub (that’s only 15 feet away) and Charlotte will cry, then throw shoes at the swaying shed. The next day she will say it’s over for good (She’ll “swear down” on it, in fact) and the episode will end on a cliff hanger…sort of. Now, this does not mean that in the next episode she won’t follow through with her pledge…but she won’t. I just know in my bones that she won’t. And so too, do we all. (Well…all us sad people who watch Geordie Shore anyway. I’m surely not the only person…)
In the very same way that I know this outcome is inevitable, I know that I will survive zombies. Sure, Geordie Shore lore suggests that what continually happens to Charlotte will continue to happen while nothing suggests that I will still be alive when the men in Biohazard suits show up with flame throwers to end the onslaught (I assume it will end like this, just like in the end of that movie “The Mist,” but hopefully I won’t have to shoot my wife seconds before humanity is saved…man, that movie was bleak from start to finish and beyond). But, just like I know Geordie Shore will play out like this, I know I’ll be alright in the end. I don’t have that same feeling for any of you. Sorry.
Maybe it’s all just bravado and ego. Maybe I’m just delusional. Maybe these Zombies won’t ever show up (but, we all know they will). I don’t know. I just know that when I play Red Dead Redemption: Undead Nightmare, I kill cowboy zombies like a boss. I slay ‘em like ‘Pac slayed B.I.G. on “Hit ‘em Up.” (I am to Zombies what Heroin was to Courtney Love’s career). There’s just no way that that Zombie slaying ability won’t translate into real life. Even though I can’t load, aim or fire a gun, it doesn’t mean I can’t improvise when required (I was a pretty awesome improv-artist in high-school drama class after all!) I’ll just dumb-luck my way through. I have to. God owes me, remember.
No comments:
Post a Comment