I let out another squeal of laughter as I stood outside of the small cottage, observing the scene inside. Some fatty was about to get blown to kingdom-come, and was saved by some hump- er, hunter. Hah! What a freak, jumping on people like that. But those burger-boys, gee, they just have to vomit all over everything, don't they? I let out another dry chuckle when I remembered that Boomer raiding the fridge. His face was priceless... groaning and grumbling at healthy food! I was shoved to the side as another horde of zombies came rushing at the humans. They're screwed!
Burglafurgruburblah. I glanced to my right and noticed that same Boomer eyeballing me from around the corner of the house. Pervert! I screamed and let out a giggling laugh, then stumbled away from Mr. Deep Fried. Ugh! Those Boomers were always trying to corner me, the lonely pigs. I glanced back inside the house and grinned when I noticed that nearly all of the Survivors were down... except for one. Some freak in a stained white suit stumbled away from the horde, trying to mow dow the Infected with a mere pistol. The worst part was, he was doing a pretty good job at it. He tripped over a coffee table and reloaded his gun with lightning speed. I laughed when a Common fell on top of him and started to claw at his suit. The poor bastard, wearing- of all things! -an expensive white suit in an apocalypse. Despite his unruly fashion choice, the crowd of zombies was thinning out rapidly.
The man disappeared around a corner, and I hopped into the house. Maybe it was time I offered up some help around these parts. Positioning myself behind a couch, I waited until a moment of weakness offered itself up. There was always, always, a moment of weakness. I recognized the click of his gun as he reloaded it, and I waited until the shots continued... One shot... two, three... four... five... six, seven- oh, eight... nine... ten! I squealed and ran out from behind the couch, hopping onto the table and jumping towards the man. In the split second he saw me coming at him, and look of hate and Oh, shit, you again! overtook his expression. I clung to his neck and swung myself around. Yee-ha! I ran him into and wall and giggled, pulling back clumps of his slicked-back hair. He yelled out in pain, and I grabbed onto his head, digging my hands into his face. He tried to shoot at me and I felt something pierce my leg. Bastard! I let out a forced squeal and got him to run into a TV. His head shattered the screen, and he dropped to the ground. Dead? I jumped off of my- Hah! -pony, then scrambled to see if he was still alive. He barely lifted his eyelids, and I scoffed. As I hopped down the hall to the front door, I screamed as a bullet pieced my hunched back.
Shit!