All You Zombies...
Brokeback Zombies??? That's Just Wrong...
Lions and Tigers and Ass-Raping Zombies, Oh my!
I was unaware Eric was a-feared of the zombies until I read that post. This'll make the next blogfest fun, I'll bet. Everyone waits for Eric to go drain the lizard, then they hurriedly slap on whiteface makeup with dark eye-circles, apply eau de roadkill, then mob the bathroom en masse moaning "Braaaaiiinnnssss!!!" Better yet, wait til he's asleep!
Zombies don't really trip my fear-switch. First, they're kind of thin on the ground around here. Eric's a lot closer to that Oak Ridge nuclear facility than I am, so that might account for the increased zombie sightings in his area.
Second, I've got a right handy shotgun and a bunch of buckshot. Zombies may be undead, but physics still rules their behavior. Remove hips and legs forcibly, and zombies resort to thrashing around on the ground as opposed to chasing you.
"But, El Capitan!" you say... "What about when you run out of ammo?" Well, that's when I get to unsheath my supply of edged weapons. First on the list is my bush hook, otherwise known as a ditchbank blade.
I love this thing. I used to use one for brush-clearing projects when working at summer camps, and it's so much better than a machete for heavy chopping. I finally bought one of my own when it was unclear whether the Clintonistas would cede power gracefully, and it might be necessary to have a tool for dealing with mounted UN troops. Handy for flinging at hovering black helicopters too, I might add...
Eventually, it'll get lodged in some giganto-zombie's pelvis, and then I get to unsheathe my pride & joy.
It's a repro of the British 1796 Pattern Heavy Cavalry saber, (Sharpe's Sword!) designed for taking Napoleon's cuirassiers out of their saddles, and scattering his infantry like chaff before the wind. Lacking a treadle grindstone, I spent many a night with a fine-cut file and whetstones putting an edge on it, and it'll go through 2 or 3 zombies at a swing, if need be.
After that? It's probably time to retreat to a locked building and wait for the less-popular characters to get eaten one by one, before the inevitable decision to blow up the building.
Now, if we're ever attacked by giant spiders, I'll be the catatonic lump in the corner gibbering with undiluted panic...
Lions and Tigers and Ass-Raping Zombies, Oh my!
I was unaware Eric was a-feared of the zombies until I read that post. This'll make the next blogfest fun, I'll bet. Everyone waits for Eric to go drain the lizard, then they hurriedly slap on whiteface makeup with dark eye-circles, apply eau de roadkill, then mob the bathroom en masse moaning "Braaaaiiinnnssss!!!" Better yet, wait til he's asleep!
Zombies don't really trip my fear-switch. First, they're kind of thin on the ground around here. Eric's a lot closer to that Oak Ridge nuclear facility than I am, so that might account for the increased zombie sightings in his area.
Second, I've got a right handy shotgun and a bunch of buckshot. Zombies may be undead, but physics still rules their behavior. Remove hips and legs forcibly, and zombies resort to thrashing around on the ground as opposed to chasing you.
"But, El Capitan!" you say... "What about when you run out of ammo?" Well, that's when I get to unsheath my supply of edged weapons. First on the list is my bush hook, otherwise known as a ditchbank blade.
I love this thing. I used to use one for brush-clearing projects when working at summer camps, and it's so much better than a machete for heavy chopping. I finally bought one of my own when it was unclear whether the Clintonistas would cede power gracefully, and it might be necessary to have a tool for dealing with mounted UN troops. Handy for flinging at hovering black helicopters too, I might add...
Eventually, it'll get lodged in some giganto-zombie's pelvis, and then I get to unsheathe my pride & joy.
It's a repro of the British 1796 Pattern Heavy Cavalry saber, (Sharpe's Sword!) designed for taking Napoleon's cuirassiers out of their saddles, and scattering his infantry like chaff before the wind. Lacking a treadle grindstone, I spent many a night with a fine-cut file and whetstones putting an edge on it, and it'll go through 2 or 3 zombies at a swing, if need be.
After that? It's probably time to retreat to a locked building and wait for the less-popular characters to get eaten one by one, before the inevitable decision to blow up the building.
Now, if we're ever attacked by giant spiders, I'll be the catatonic lump in the corner gibbering with undiluted panic...
posted by El Capitan | 12:36 PM
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