Something was off since the beginning of the day (apart from the aforementioned good-moodiness-in-the-morning)- none of my early-rising roommates were around, but I just chalked it up to late night partying. The house was quiet, too quiet. Once I made it out to the back yard for a morning cigarette, I found my roommates trying to shuffle over the back wall, into the adjoining lot, presumably in search of live brains to dine on. As soon as I showed up, though, all their attention was on me. Luckily, the undead are not known for their swiftness, so I had time to grab a broom handle to keep them at bay. I then proceeded to vent all of my roommate angst onto zombie-Adriano and zombie-Jay (the Ninja, apparently, was not affected, probably because he's, well, a ninja, and somehow immune. Sneaky sneaky, Lip). Unfortunately, a broom handle isn't the best weapon against the undead. I'd been telling my roomies we needed to invest in a chainsaw, a lawnmower, a shotgun, or at the very least a machete, because dammit, you just never know when you're gonna have to fend off some undead zombie motherfuckers. But no, they wanted to spend the house fund on an air conditioner for the TV room. Well, then- as we all know, zombies don't sweat (but they bleed and secrete pus)- so who's laughing now, bitches??
Anyway, zombie-Adriano took a bite out of my spleen while I was trying to fend off zombie-Jay (fuck speed, they've got strength in numbers), so I was infected. It's been ok so far. I mean, there's plenty of brains to eat in the city, what with the slow-moving elderly, small, unsuspecting children, cracked-out homeless, and the occasional three-legged dog. Work has been a challenge, since my mouse-finger got torn off while fighting a zombie-straphanger for the intestines of a subway conductor, so I might just have to give up on this graphic design business and simply walk around eating brains and enrails. That sounds more appetizing, anyway. After all, Macs aren't really too tasty. Not enough protein.