A/N: This has been sitting on my computer for almost a year.

There will be minor OC characters in use and, like I usually do, OOC actions.

This takes place before the apocalypse and, in current time, the beginning of Season 3.

Jeffrey Dahmer

Today was the day. Today Glenn Rhee would finally quit his shitty job at the shitty pizzeria. For two years he worked there, trying to pay off building college debt, but all he got was more debt and an ulcer the size of his fist because of all the jackasses he delivered shitty melted cheese on bread to.

"I can do this," he breathed in slowly. "I can do this," he repeated.

The Korean walked up to the front door, pausing a moment, hesitant to end this chapter of his life. Yes, he hated the pizza shop, but it was a change. He had no other jobs lined up but he couldn't fucking work here another minute without flipping his shit and going on a killing spree.

Maybe he was being dramatic here.

Then again, they all said Jeffrey Dahmer was just being dramatic.

He walked through the doors, nervously fidgeting with the hem of his T-shirt as he passed the empty counter and entered the back of the shop where his manager's office was tucked away. "Mr. Alejandro?" he called out. "You in there, s-sir?"

Glenn peered past the ajar door, seeing an empty office. That was weird—they weren't closed today. Why was the shop empty? He was the only person there and he wasn't even scheduled to work that day. What was going on?

Turning to search elsewhere he found some spilled pizza sauce burning on the stove. He scoffed, Typical Travis, always leaving a mess behind. He stepped forward, turning the heat off, noticing a strange coppery smell. Copper? Did Travis leave his loose change on the stove again? That's when Glenn noticed the pizza sauce was much too thin, much too dark… much too AB+…

"Oh shit," he gasped. That was blood! A groan behind him alerted him to the presence of the man standing in the doorway of the supply room. "Travis?" he quietly asked. The man stumbled forward, getting caught on a stack of boxes and tripping forward. This was definitely Travis, but something was seriously wrong with him. His eyes were glazed over and milky white, his hair matted in blood over the hole that used to be his ear. Where was Travis's ear? Wait, never mind, it was on the floor next to the stove. Oh lord.

"Travis? Are you okay?" Yeah, great question, dumbass. Dude's limping and missing an ear, I'm sure he's just fine.

Travis growled, causing Glenn to nearly piss himself. The sickly man lunged at him, Glenn barely stepping aside in time for Travis to crash into the oven, burning himself on the burner that was still on. Glenn gagged at the sight: Travis's arm was stuck to the metal oven, burned to it, and Travis only growled as if he couldn't feel it. The smell of his skin burning onto the cookery made Glenn's gagging turn into full-on vomiting. He held a hand to his mouth and ran out the back door, going as fast as he could to put distance between him and his horrifying co-worker.

He fell to his knees next to the dumpster, hyperventilating, wondering what the hell got into the man. The sound of clinking echoed from the dumpster, making Glenn jump up in fear as a hand reached out the top of the trash. Suddenly the face of Mr. Alejandro, pale as a ghost, emerged from the top of the metal container. "Glenn!" He cried. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"What happened to Travis?!" Glenn yelled, fear overtaking his voice.

"Glenn, son… come on up into the dumpster, I have a lot to tell you…"

Glenn eyed his boss for a moment before deciding climbing into a pile of trash was likely not going to be the worst thing to happen to him that day. He took his boss's hand and jumped up into the trash, ready for an explanation he never would have dreamed of.

"So that was the day you found out about the Walkers?"

The prison group was sitting around in a circle in the cafeteria, swapping war stories of when they realized the world had fallen apart. There was Ricks' coma story, Maggie's step-mom story, Lori's evacuation story, and now all ears were aimed at Glenn.

Glenn looked up to Carol, who had questioned him. "So you were quitting your job when you first ran into the undead?"

"Oh no, that wasn't the day."

T-Dog made an exasperated noise. "Man, you mean to tell me you kept going to work even after the dead began walking around, eatin' people?"

"I didn't say that. This was all before the end of the world. Travis wasn't a Walker."

The group sat in stunned silence.

"What?" Daryl spat out. "The hell you mean he weren't a walker?"

"Yeah, Travis was still alive. Turns out he just broke up with his girlfriend the night before so he got shitfaced drunk and came in hung-over as hell. I met her, her name was Laura. He used to talk about how much Laura loved art and Picasso and Van Gogh. So he thought he could do as Van Gogh did and cut off his ear to send to her to prove his love. Idiot did it at work because he didn't have any clean knives at home. He was in the middle of doing it when a family of four came in to get a pizza. He turned the oven on but scared them off when he went to take their order. My boss came in late that day and went to chew him out for scaring away customers, but Travis scared the hell out of him so he ran outside and hid."

"Wait a damn second," Daryl interrupted. "Why the fuck was he acting like a Walker then? What about them milky white eyes you was talking about?

"Oh, yeah, he had really bad untreated cataracts."

"You said he was growling and lunged at you."

Glenn laughed. "Yeah, he never liked me. Said I was always cleaning up after him, which is true because he always leaves behind a trail of garbage. Dude couldn't clean worth shit. Mr. Alejandro ended up calling the police, who took him to the psych ward at the hospital. They searched his house and found a few dead bodies in this giant freezer in the basement. Turned out Travis was a psychopath."

"But he was burned to the stove!"

"He was into really weird shit, that's why Laura left him."

There was stunned silence, broken by Carl. "I thought we were telling stories about where we were when this started?"

"We were, but mine was boring so I told an exciting one instead."

"Travis wasn't infected or anything?"

"Oh no, this was two years before the infection."

Another silence, followed by Daryl muttering, "Holy shit."

Rick rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. "Okay, Glenn. So where were you then? How boring could it have been to not even compare to a 'normal' day at work for you?"

Glenn scratched his head. "I was at work, again, ready to quit for real that time. A SWAT team rushed the place and shot everyone up except me, I was hiding under the sink. They left, I stole my boss's car keys, and I drove straight to the place the radio said was safe. That's when I met up with Shane's group outside of Atlanta."

Everyone sat around, awkwardly fiddling with their thumbs or tapping their feet. Rick cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the situation. "So, Hershel. Where were you when this started?"

The old man looked up at Rick, an unrecognizable expression on his face. "Rick, you honestly want to know?" Rick nodded. "I was out fucking bitches and snorting coke off of strippers. Fuck it. I don't even care anymore."

A/N: This was from the weird era of when I really liked putting in weird twists with stories. Similar to my story "Three-Fifty" and "A Magical Hunting Trip." I'm so sorry.