Shaun of the Dead happened to be on the television last Saturday while I was sitting around waiting for a Halloween party to commence, and while I was watching neighbors band together to defeat a roaming gang of zombie scum, I got to thinking - how would my neighborhood deal with a localized zombie infestation? We're not exactly like Leave it to Beaver over here. True, we are friendly enough, but it's not like we're having block parties and progressive dinners. Nonetheless, I think that my neighborhood would do a relatively decent job joining forces to defeat the powers of the undead. Basically, here's how I see things shaking out:
Redneck House would be the first to go.
A 100-square foot structure provides a dilapidated shelter for four adults and a minimum of three feral children, affectionately known as the Redneck House. With their love of loud parties, bastard children, illegal substances and country music, I'm pretty sure they'll never even make it to the "coalition of the neighborhood" stage. Most likely, the children will be some of the first infected, and they will eat their mother, live-in boyfriend, grandmother, and great-grandmother in one sitting. It will be tasteless, brutal and disgusting - in other words, pretty much status quo for Redneck House.
Randy and Co. would supply the arms.
After sighting what my neighbors deemed to be an "unsavory sort" skulking through our backyards (unsavory = black), Randy made it well known that he has a gun and ain't afraid to use it. Now, while I might feel inclined to fault his blatant racism, I must admit that I'm thankful for the arms he will be able to supply to defeat the undead. I imagine that at some point, Randy will emerge from the house, shotgun in hand, shouting "Watch out zombie bitches!" before the day is through. Inevitably, he'll be killed by a swift bite to the throat, but he'll take more of his fair share of zombies down with him before he goes.
The Indigo Girls would supply the muscle and the occasional witty banter.
At the end of my street lives the Indigo Girls. They live in a house that looks like it was designed by a schizophrenic, five-year-old architect, and rainbow stickers adorn every available spot on the bumper of their rusted-out conversion van. True, I've never actually seen them, but in my head they both look a bit like Bea Arthur. I'm pretty sure that neither of the Indigo Girls would survive the zombie attack, but I'll sure be grateful for that conversion van which will likely be used to run over a pack of the flesh-hungry undead while the survivors race for the hills.
Fireworks House will supply the heavy artillery.
During the entire month of July I pretty much hate Fireworks house, but when zombies have infested your neighborhood, a paintball toting, American flag waiving, explosives wielding family of five would certainly come in handy. Emerging from the home draped in American flags and sporting paintball guns which have been modified into a crudely fashions shotguns, Fireworks House will prove to be an indispensable addition in our war against the undead. I'm sure that the whole fight will climax in leading the zombies into Fireworks House, which will then be ignited, exploding in a terrific blast of bottle rockets, zombie bits, and red, white and blue flames. It will be very loud, very disgusting and very patriotic. In other words, pretty much status quo for Fireworks House.
Doug will make sure all the doors are locked and the newspapers are out of sight.
Doug lives next door. He's a retired Vietnam vet, and he's very nice. He doesn't say much, but he's very good at making sure my newspapers are out of sight whenever I go out of town. I'm not sure if that will be absolutely necessary when zombies are roaming my street, but I'd like to think that Doug's thoughtfulness will come in handy. Of course, his two Shar-peis will both become infected, turning into vicious zombie attack dogs which will then turn their master who will be consumed in a matter of minutes, but what can you do - you know?
And as for my house?
Oh, we'll surely die first. We'll be hiding in the closet only to be sniffed out during the first wave of attacks. After all, we may talk a big game, but we're basically cowards over here.
Redneck House would be the first to go.
A 100-square foot structure provides a dilapidated shelter for four adults and a minimum of three feral children, affectionately known as the Redneck House. With their love of loud parties, bastard children, illegal substances and country music, I'm pretty sure they'll never even make it to the "coalition of the neighborhood" stage. Most likely, the children will be some of the first infected, and they will eat their mother, live-in boyfriend, grandmother, and great-grandmother in one sitting. It will be tasteless, brutal and disgusting - in other words, pretty much status quo for Redneck House.
Randy and Co. would supply the arms.
After sighting what my neighbors deemed to be an "unsavory sort" skulking through our backyards (unsavory = black), Randy made it well known that he has a gun and ain't afraid to use it. Now, while I might feel inclined to fault his blatant racism, I must admit that I'm thankful for the arms he will be able to supply to defeat the undead. I imagine that at some point, Randy will emerge from the house, shotgun in hand, shouting "Watch out zombie bitches!" before the day is through. Inevitably, he'll be killed by a swift bite to the throat, but he'll take more of his fair share of zombies down with him before he goes.
The Indigo Girls would supply the muscle and the occasional witty banter.
At the end of my street lives the Indigo Girls. They live in a house that looks like it was designed by a schizophrenic, five-year-old architect, and rainbow stickers adorn every available spot on the bumper of their rusted-out conversion van. True, I've never actually seen them, but in my head they both look a bit like Bea Arthur. I'm pretty sure that neither of the Indigo Girls would survive the zombie attack, but I'll sure be grateful for that conversion van which will likely be used to run over a pack of the flesh-hungry undead while the survivors race for the hills.
Fireworks House will supply the heavy artillery.
During the entire month of July I pretty much hate Fireworks house, but when zombies have infested your neighborhood, a paintball toting, American flag waiving, explosives wielding family of five would certainly come in handy. Emerging from the home draped in American flags and sporting paintball guns which have been modified into a crudely fashions shotguns, Fireworks House will prove to be an indispensable addition in our war against the undead. I'm sure that the whole fight will climax in leading the zombies into Fireworks House, which will then be ignited, exploding in a terrific blast of bottle rockets, zombie bits, and red, white and blue flames. It will be very loud, very disgusting and very patriotic. In other words, pretty much status quo for Fireworks House.
Doug will make sure all the doors are locked and the newspapers are out of sight.
Doug lives next door. He's a retired Vietnam vet, and he's very nice. He doesn't say much, but he's very good at making sure my newspapers are out of sight whenever I go out of town. I'm not sure if that will be absolutely necessary when zombies are roaming my street, but I'd like to think that Doug's thoughtfulness will come in handy. Of course, his two Shar-peis will both become infected, turning into vicious zombie attack dogs which will then turn their master who will be consumed in a matter of minutes, but what can you do - you know?
And as for my house?
Oh, we'll surely die first. We'll be hiding in the closet only to be sniffed out during the first wave of attacks. After all, we may talk a big game, but we're basically cowards over here.
1 Comments:
ooh! diagrams! i imagine that would be tremendously helpful. gimme gimme.
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