Hello this is utterlynormal- it's been a while I know! Though you probably don't cos none of my stories get viewed by many people- not that I mind- plus they're on a different account so you would have no way of knowing- I just mean you probably didn't know I hadn't written at all in at least 3 years or so ;) Anyhow, this is a nice short one-shot- enjoy (or not, I mean, you don't have to enjoy it but even hate mail is nice so feel free to review)!

I'm running through a field. I'm out of breath. I literally never ran more than 5k before the apocalypse. I guess others were even lazier than me because apparently I'm one of the best runners.

Hmm.

I would way prefer a radio job. Sat down. Legs up on the console. Watching from afar, safe within the gates, that's what I'd prefer. Not everyone gets what they want though, especially during the zombie apocalypse. Even Sam complains about how he almost never gets to clean his underwear because water is in short supply (basically all the water is either used for drinking or to wash our clothes after runs so we don't get things like athlete's foot- being a runner needs its perks or no one would do it).

Yeah my lungs are burning. As are my legs. I'd trade this for dirty underwear any day. Also there are zombs behind me. A good 15. Gee thanks, Sam. Gosh. Doing a great job at keeping me safe here. Is my life really worth 4 cans of food?!

Luckily I can now see the start of the forest.

"The forest should be coming into view now."

(No shit, Sam)

"The supply package should be one or two hundred meters into the forest."

(You already told me at least five times before I left in case I forgot. Which I didn't.)

I dig into my last energy reserves to speed up to a sprint. The zombies won't be able to get to me as easily in the forest. I'm pretty good at climbing (small) trees (I'm scared of heights- but I'm more scared of zombies) to get out of reach.

That's when I feel it.

My intestines seem to drop a good half-metre inside me. I feel sick.

No. No. No. Not now.

"WHO THE HELL SWAPPED MY SOYA MILK FOR REAL MILK THIS MORNING?!" I yell into my microphone as the diarrhoea begins. I keep running though through the pain until I reach the forest and run up a tree.

Being lactose intolerant in the zombie apocalypse is really annoying.

At least the smell seems to be warding off the zombies. Who knew they had a sense of hygiene?

I can hear Runner 31 snorting, trying to hide her laughter. She's on a separate mission at the moment but it's pretty clear it was her who did it. Ah, sweet sisterly love.

I'll think up my revenge later.

Meanwhile I have some serious shitting to get to.