How to Survive the Zombie Apocalypse

Sorry Directioners (actually not that sorry)

The man walked briskly down the sidewalk to his apartment.  It was a cold fall evening and a couple snowflakes drifted through the air. 

The man had just returned from a business trip in Japan.  He'd asked his good friend, Carl, to watch the apartment for him.

Anxious to get out of the cold, he unlocked the door quickly and locked it just as quickly behind him.  When he turned around what he saw made him drop his keys.  His heartbeat quickened in terror and he leaned back against the door for support.

Carl had vowed to get him back for the last prank he's pulled, but he'd gone too far this time. 

His walls were plastered with countless posters of One Direction.  But he hadn't stopped at that, oh no.  At least a dozen life-size cardboard cut-outs were bolted to the floor in various places.  He had spray-painted I ♥ 1D repeatedly all over the ceilings with hot pink paint. 

He ran to his room, only to find that his bed sheets and pillowcases had been replaced and now had pictures of all of the members of the band with little hearts around theirs heads.  One Direction dolls were scattered across his dresser.  His entire wardrobe had been replaced with a variety of One Direction T-shirts. 

He would have to burn down the entire apartment complex to get rid of this stuff.  And he had to do what he had to do.  He fumbled desperately in his end table for the matches.  He pulled out his cigarette lighter and dumped the lighter fluid onto the bed sheets.  Then he struck a match and dropped it into the center of the bed.  

He stood there for a moment and watched the flames, admiring the insurmountable beauty that was fire.  He turned away as the fire alarms began to wail. 

He strolled casually out of the apartment complex, whistling.  

Some people thought of him as a public menace.  But he thought of himself as the restorer of peace and sanity to the land.