I Should Have Changed My Stupid Lock
The men in the 5th-floor control room stare at the screen.
It was just a typical night. Everything was peace and quiet. They took great care of their clients' properties. They patrolled the streets.
And now, a zombie.
Life is so fucking full of surprises.
One of the men stands up and leaves the control room quietly. He takes the elevator down to the empty lobby. The zombie presses against the double glass doors, trying to get in. The man looks at the zombie closely. Death doesn't do you justice, Mr. Morelli. The corner of the man's lips twitches as he calmly thinks of his options. The zombie groans and claws. The cockroaches have, somehow, disappeared. A shining black SUV pulls to a stop in front of the building. The driver and his partner get out of the car with their guns out. It's a hot, windy summer night. The foul scent of carcasses grows stronger. The man makes a swift decision. "Open the door."
The graveyard shift receptionist obeys his order. The doors smoothly slide open. The zombie staggers foreword and lets out a soul rending roar. The man pulls out his gun, takes aim, and shoots the zombie through the head. The zombie collapses to the floor in a heap of hairs, meat, bones, and gooey liquid. The man suddenly feels empty, like when he watched The Red Viper die at the hands of his sister's rapist and murderer. That's it? That's all? The man nicknamed Tank gives his head a tiny shake. Justice is nothing but a hollow word.
And where are the fucking Twinkies?
The End
~Theme Song: I Will Survive From Meet The Spartans~