Thursday, April 16, 2009

If You Can Read This, The Bitch Has Been Eaten By The Undead

In event that zombies rise up and take over the world (slow, shuffling rising, naturally), best to have a plan. My friend Raza sent me this list of zombie contingency plans, which are okay. (Most of them seem to rely on the basic premise of feeding your grandmother to zombie hordes.) But they lack a certain...finesse. A certain je-ne-sais-quoi. They fail to take into account that I, upon zombie uprising, will not transform into a ripped action heroine capable of dismantling the undead with my machete. I will still be the same basic nerdette, albeit with a crippling case of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

This zombocalypse will require a cool, collected head. Someone with working knowledge of firearms and the back roads of Canada, along with the ability to create a fire by giving kindling a tough look. Unfortunately, my gang tends to be a pretty high-strung bunch. If zombie-fighting skills included "smoking cigarettes" and "flirting with strangers" and "writing webpages" then yes, we would prosper. But I kind of doubt it.

However, for the sake of argument, I'll outline my zombie plans. These are all reliant on not falling prey to step 0.5: become a zombie.

Step 1: Recognize, fool! Zombies, unless actively covered in gore, are not easily spotted. They could be escaped mental patients, or people under sedation, or having a seizure. I'm not hating on those demographics, but seriously: red herring much? So, make sure I'm vigilant about when the transformation happens. Spot 'em quick.

Step 2: Load up on supplies. I'm thinking a couple weeks worth of food, a whole bunch of water, Diet Coke (it's an addiction), "lady products," candles, camping stove, walkie-talkie, crossbow (not that I'll know how to use it...right away), warm clothes, bike gear, batteries, flashlight, a tent, sleep gear, trashy magazines, and maps. Anything else I can pick up on the road, but that food and water is the kicker: I'm holing up in my place for a while, at least at first.

Step 3: Hole up in my place. Invite non-zombified friends over to play Boggle and get used to not having the internet. Learn how to shoot the crossbow. Get really tired of eating food from a can. Get really scared every time we hear gunfire outside. My place is decently big; maybe a half-dozen or so people can hang out. They have to bring their own crap, though. I'm not a damned post-apocalypse Zellers. I figure safety in numbers, safety on the top floor of a house, and safety in not going fucking insane all by yourself.

Step 4: Hit the road. After a while, Toronto's grocery stores will be trashed and my non-zombified friends will be tired of sharing a bathroom. I'll be travelling by bike. Yeah, I know: wimpy, right? But bikes are easier to fix than cars, I won't have to worry about gas, and they're super quiet. You pilot a tank down Yonge Street and people notice that shit. We'll head east, and then once the border gets a little easier to cross, south. Obviously, at some point during this journey, we'll have to remove someone's appendix with, like, a Bowie knife and dental floss, and start having insane dreams. Naturally.

Step 5: Find a safe space. I'm thinking maybe a quiet island, but one that has plenty of arable land and is accessible by one (!) bridge. Zombies are stupid and can't work boats. But I, likewise, will probably die if I try to live outside in Canada during the winter. Fighting the undead will continue, we'll all be incredibly fit, I'll be in charge of running the still and my friends will be in charge of repopulating the earth.

So there you have it. From zombie insanity to utopian saloon in five easy steps. Couldn't be simpler.


  1. Can I reserve a spot in your top-floor fortress? We can make booby-traps for zombies and raccoons alike!

  2. 1. a tent? A TENT! How is a tent going to fare against zombies? Skip this expense and spend the money on some booze instead.

    2. Good call on the bikes. After everyone is dead I'm going to have to steal a bike with gears or I think I'll get left during the get-a-way.

    3. You have the best embedded links ever.

    4. You're moving out.... unless this zombie business happens before September, we need a new house to hole up in. I suggest mine because no one lives on the fucking east side: ergo, no zombies.