Everyone Un-Died + My Gardener Bit Me: The Oral History of the Zombie Apocalypse

Completely Useless Buffoons

[LUCAS: Oh, now you look like a jerk.]

You know I rely on you.

[LUCAS: You do? Because I was under the impression that you didn't care what I thought.]

I care what you think, Lucas, but I really don't think this is a good time to let you go see Stephanie.

[LUCAS: You know, I thought we were friends, but I guess it's strictly a cager/cagee relationship.]

Um... do you ladies want to be alone?

No, we're good. Where were we? Oh, right, you were saying that you don't want to burn books.

Excuse me, don't put words in my mouth. My point is that Lady Liberty is holding the torch aloft because she is protecting our blessed country with fire!

But for the record, do you want to burn books?

Let's just say that I enjoy a nice bonfire every now and then, and leave it at that.

So even if you do have a right to own a flamethrower, why do you need one?

It's simple. Everyone agrees that fire is the most effective way to kill zombies. Everyone also agrees that a flamethrower is the most effective way to apply fire to a zombie. And I see no reason why I should not have the most efficient tools possible when it comes to protecting my family. Or incinerating them. Depending on the situation.

Why don't you let law enforcement handle the zombies? After all, they are trained professionals.

No one respects law enforcement more than us. They are the thin blue line between order and anarchy. We thank them for risking their lives every day to keep us safe. That said, they are completely useless buffoons and you will be dead long before they even arrive on the scene.

A recent study found that when a civilian uses a flamethrower, nearly fifty percent of the time, they wind up killing or seriously injuring a non-zombie.

Well, according to our study, people use flamethrowers accurately ninety-eight percent of the time.

That seems incredibly unrealistic.

Does it? Well, how would you feel about, say, eighty-five percent?

Ummmm...

Seventy-nine percent?

I mean, that at least sounds plausible, but—

OK, so seventy-nine percent of flamethrowers are used accurately. Are you really going to punish all those responsible citizens because of a few burnt apples?

Well, I think the ones who are the being "punished" are the ones who are being set on fire, don't you?

You mean the zombies? Damn right they're being punished! But apparently, you and your ilk care more about zombies than actual people.

That is not true. I just care about flamethrower safety.

And so do we.

Good to hear. So what should be the requirements for owning a flamethrower?

Well, first off, you need to have enough money to buy a flamethrower.

OK. And then?

You can have a flamethrower.

That's it?

That's it.

You don't think there should be other criteria?

Like what?

An age requirement? A background check? Mandatory training in the use of flamethrowers? A ten-day waiting period?

Let me tell you a story. A story about a beautiful young girl named Ann. Ann had her whole life ahead of her. She wanted to be a nurse. She wanted to fall in love. She wanted a family of her own. She also wanted to protect herself from the zombies with a flamethrower.

So she went to the flamethrower store and paid for a brand-new flamethrower with money she earned babysitting the neighbors' kids. But then, to her surprise, the salesman told Ann that she couldn't have her flamethrower yet; no, she had to wait ten whole days before she could bring her flamethrower home.

"Well, it's only ten days," Ann told herself. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

And Ann was fine. On the first day. And the second. And the third and fourth and fifth. She was even fine when she woke up on the tenth day.

Ann kissed her Mom and Dad and went to get her flamethrower. She walked into the flamethrower store and went up to the salesman and said, "At last, I can get my flamethrower!"

But the salesman didn't give her a flamethrower. Instead he bit her on the neck and lapped up her blood as she screamed and then died. Because in the ten days that Ann was waiting, the salesman had become a zombie himself. And now, Ann is, too.

That's very compelling—

Isn't it? Really works on a gut level!

—but I am absolutely certain that didn't really happen.

It didn't. But it could happen. And probably it will happen if you zombie lovers get your way.

All I want is some common sense—

Oh, I get it! You are being paid by the Zombie Lobby!

What? No! Why would you even say something like that?

Because the only reason I can see for depriving citizens of their Constitutional right to defend themselves from the undead is if you're in the pocket of Big Zombie.

That's it! I've had enough of your dishonesty, your misdirection and your smears. I'm not working for the Zombie Lobby. First, because I don't like zombies. And second, because there is no Zombie Lobby! Right, Lucas?

[LUCAS: Actually, there is.]

Really? Well... I don't know anyone who would be involved in something like that.

[LUCAS: Actually, you do.]

Gosh. What a surprise.

Who is it?

[LUCAS: You're not going to like it.]

(Continued...)