Zombies are everywhere.
There’s nowhere left to hide.
I found a boat and made it to an island in the middle of a lake, but the zombies walked along the lake floor and started to come ashore.
So, I kept the boat at sea, which really sucks because I get seasick easily.
I have plenty of food, ammo, and fresh water. And books to read.
If I need more, I go back to shore and collect supplies.
I saw a clown zombie. A freaking clown zombie.
Sick, really, twisting his guts into the shapes of animals.
But, yeah, it’s funny.
Tag: dystopia
Mammoth
Under most circumstances, the escape of a cloned mammoth would be the lead in the evening newscast.
However, with the river flooding and filling with sharks, that was not the case.
“We should lead with the mammoth,” said the anchor, touching up her makeup in the mirror. “People don’t have to go into the water, but that rampaging mammoth might hurt someone out on the street.”
“It’s not exactly rampaging,” said the producer. “It’s just sitting there. We’ve got video of kids petting it.”
“What about the sharks?”
“Um, we can’t show the video of kids trying to pet them.”
Bodyguard
Many years ago I was rich, but how I got rich did not sit well with those I got rich off of, so I hired a bodyguard.
My bodyguard turned out to be one of the people I had gotten rich off of, so I hired a bodyguard to protect me from my bodyguard.
But that bodyguard had gotten rich off of my original bodyguard, so he was loyal to that man and not me, so I hired another bodyguard.
All these bodyguards bankrupted me.
My former bodyguard, who had gotten rich off of me, hired me… as a bodyguard.
The Sleep Till Noon Gene
My friend Mikey hates waking up early every day.
He wishes he had the Sleep Till Noon gene.
What he doesn’t know is that such a gene exists, and a well-known bioengineering firm has recently sequenced it.
Most of their research is still in the lab, but they have applied for a patent with a genetically-modified corn with the gene.
It’s corn that sleeps till noon.
The idea behind it is that the corn will sleep till noon, so the farmer can harvest it while it sleeps.
Cruelty-free corn harvesting!
(Unlike normal genetically-modified corn, which screams really loud when harvested.)
The Gates
Devils despise the rule of The Lord, but there are unwilling servants among the angels, too.
They sat on a park bench, a malcontent seraphim and one of the damned.
“Did you bring it?” growled the devil.
The angel took out a bundle and unwrapped it, revealing a shiny iron bar.
“From right under Peter’s nose.”
The devil pulled out another iron bar, rusty and pitted.
“Let’s make them sing,” he said.
The devil and angel picked up their iron bars and swung them at each other.
The Universal Bell rang louder than existence, and the stars began to fade.
The Jobs Report
We all wait outside The Department of Labor, waiting for The Jobs Report.
A small man in a suit walks outside, steps up to the podium, and removes a manilla folder from his briefcase.
He takes off his glasses, wipes them with a handkerchief, and puts them back on.
The crowd is silent as he opens the folder, looks through the documents inside, and selects a single sheet.
He cleans his glasses again, puts them back on, and reads The Jobs Report:
“One,” he says. “Mine.”
He breathes a sigh of relief, looks around, and runs back inside the building.
The last ticket
The woman at the ticket counter smiled, handed me the ticket, and then drew down a shade with CLOSED printed on it.
The line was long and the groans of frustration were loud.
Some asked me how much I wanted for my ticket.
Others wanted to see the ticket, but I was afraid they’d steal it.
I was surrounded: people making offers, begging for me to take their children with me.
I ran for the door, handed my ticket to the usher, and he tore off the stub.
Damn these exclusive Harry Potter movie premieres! Can’t they open more screens?
The Siege of Oz
Before the Wizard floated off and Dorothy vanished, the Scarecrow, Tinman, and Lion swore to rule Oz with intelligence, compassion, and bravery.
Instead, they spent their time bickering and fighting.
The Lion became foolhearty. Barroom brawls ruined his once-magnificent pelt, making him that much more sullen and angry, drinking more, fighting more.
The Tinman was overly compassionate, giving away everything in the Treasury.
The Scarecrow, stuck with the balance sheets, yelled “Damn you both!”
The leaderless Winged Monkeys and Witch Castle Guards received news of this chaos.
They marched on Emerald City, ready to overthrow the misguided and incompetent triumvirate.
Rolling
Prisoner 280 asked the headsman’s forgiveness for stepping on his foot, and she placed her head through the guillotine’s stock.
As the sentence was read aloud, she imagined her husband enduring this same insult nine months earlier.
Unlike the king, her head did not drop into the basket, but sailed over the crowd, spinning on to the cobblestoned street.
The town militia chased after it, but it soon rolled out of sight.
They tossed her body into an unmarked grave, which meant they never knew when it was dug back up.
The resurrectionist rubs his hands together, laughing with joy.
What On Earth?
Everybody’s going to the new salon on Fifth Street.
For some reason, it’s all the rage, but the styles they come up with are dreadful.
“You look like you stuck your finger in a light socket,” I told my friend. Her hair was standing a foot tall from her head. “What on earth made you do such a thing?”
Then I caught a sparkle inside her hair. The updo was meant to conceal an antenna.
But there was a fully-exposed pod on the back of her neck. No coverage at all.
They might conquer earth, but they’ll never be in-style.