| |
[Jun. 15th, 2009|12:41 am] |
You know, they always leave out the 'holy shit, eighteen hours of the same fucking moaning and groaning' horror in zombie flicks. I'm starting to see why.
If you have the means- AKA, a fully stocked pharmacy- Molotov cocktails out of extra bottles of rubbing alcohol? Amusing, for a while. If you can stand the smell. |
|
|
| |
[Jun. 15th, 2009|08:52 am] |
Honestly, if there's one thing that this affliction's good for, is that other undead things really don't pay much mind to us. It's far easier to run them through, that way.
Though this does beg the question of where they're all coming from. I've looked for a source point, but they just seem to be coming out of nowhere. Perhaps the lot of them are being vortexed in from an alternate reality where there's an overabundance of zombies?
Whatever the cause, if you've got any need for protection against the undead, I've got a bunch of talismans made up, and I'm willing to sell them to anyone, reasonably priced at 50 pounds a piece. |
|
|
| |
[Jun. 15th, 2009|10:07 am] |
I'm afraid the church has been compromised, and the stench is quite atrocious.
Sister James, are you all right? |
|
|
| |
[Jun. 15th, 2009|11:43 am] |
Uhh... this isn't good... |
|
|
| |
[Jun. 15th, 2009|11:44 am] |
That was a bit messy. |
|
|
| |
[Jun. 15th, 2009|11:45 am] |
Now this is easier to handle. |
|
|
| |
[Jun. 15th, 2009|02:31 pm] |
Zombies! Now, this feels more like home.
...Well, it feels like beating up Ga Ga drones. It's pretty fun, actually. |
|
|
| |
[Jun. 15th, 2009|10:55 pm] |
Well that was just a little too much like home for me.
I feel like ice cream, anybody want to join me? I'm good company if not a great conversationalist.
And the lady who offered me a job before, things kind of went crazy and I didn't get a chance to ask where it is or when I could start. |
|
|