Surviving the Zombie apocalypse requires a lot of running. No, not running, that's not the right word. I'd say that sprinting would be a better word for it. Or maybe hauling ass. That would be good too.

Some people learn this the hard way. I mean, if you can't outrun the zombies, you just aren't going to survive. The easiest way to get around the running: get a car. That way, you don't have to run very far.

It's been about a year since that first idiot ate that mother fucking hamburger. That fateful day, when cannibals were the least of our worries. I mean, who cares about the ones that want to lure you into their lair and cook your body with licorice sauce? The ones that are in for fast food are the ones you need to worry about. I like to think that the cannibals got what they deserved. Let's see how they like it when someone jumps out from behind their shower curtain and decides to rip their face off and suck their brains out through their eye sockets.

That image makes me happy.

Twisted, I know. But, I've been killing blood lusting demons for the past year.

And what's more twisted, I'm only 16.

Try to swallow that one.

I'm walking around in New York today. The best dressed Zombie population I must say. They have nice outfits on, or at least they were nice at one point in time. Now they're all covered in blood... and brains... but that's the number one fashion these days. That's what I've been wearing lately anyway.

Time square is a lot different when the lights aren't working. The M&M store is a lot less alluring when there are no flashy billboard around it. It makes me laugh to see the attempts at looting. It looks like they didn't get very far before they were eaten alive.

That's what they get for stealing. For being greedy. What did they expect, that this was some little thing that would blow over in a couple of days. The dead are walking around MOFO!! Did you really expect to see Suzy's face light up when you brought her home a tricycle. The reality: Suzy is probably waiting at home, nawing on her cat, and preparing for daddy to come home so she can eat him.

That's the reality of the United States Of Zombie Land. If you had a family at one point in time, chances are they're all dead or eating other people's brains.

I walk into an ammo store, paroozing for shot gun shells. It doesn't look like there are any. I'll have to settle for a less powerful form of weapon. I shove my shotgun back into its holster and look around. There's a crossbow, but how affective will that be at blowing somethings brains out. Not at all. Instead my eye catches on a more compact version of the rocket launcher in my bag. I toss this one, and add the newer version, loading up with ammo.

I see food all over the place, but decide not to take it. I can find food anywhere, it's ammo I'm going to have trouble getting these days. I snag a couple of grenades and am lucky to find a box of shot gun shells behind the counter. I put these in my bag and keep moving. I'm way too antsy to stay in one place too long. Not that the zombies are stealthy. Just that there are a lot of them. Especially in this part of town. The fashion district. There are bound to be zombies somewhere.

I whistle loudly with my fingers and unpin a grenade. I count to three and leave the store. The growling of the zombies that were attracted to my whistle I can hear, but I decide to ignore them. It will be funner to hear their next sound.

I exit the store to a resounding boom that sends me staggering forward a bit. I turn around to see the faces of 5 zombies obliterated in the blast. I hop in my Titan pick up truck, chucking my pack in the back. I have to get on the move before the rest of New York City's unhuman population decide to show up and suck the marrow from my bones. Wouldn't that be exciting?