Dick Moves and Amusement Reserved for the Zombie Apocalypse

Posted: March 4, 2013 in Self-Deprecation
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Disclaimer:  Totally going to Hell for this entry, not because of the patently awesome content but for where I came up with it.   I point a finger of blame at two of my friends, because they brought up The Walking Dead (a show I have only seen a couple episodes of) in the middle of our buddy’s father’s funeral– because I wore my combat duster to the wake.  Hey, it looks damn good with a black suit, black shirt, and black tie– and is plenty warm for the balls cold weather.  So don’t judge.  Well.  Don’t judge for the attire, the rest…  yeah…  anyway.

I’m writing this because I have been entirely too freaking “real” as of late.  It’s almost to the point of being borderline emo, and frankly– I like my wit to be cutting, and that’s about it.  If I had responsibility for the lawn (one advantage to being in an apartment), I’d want my lawn to be emo– but even though it’d cut itself, it’d still want attention.

So yeah, back to them bringing up The Walking Dead while at a wake, and the subsequent Zombpoc thought process.  Apparently one of the characters came up with a way of “pacifying” zombies.  Without missing a beat, I brought up a game that a group of us came up with years ago while utterly shithoused.

Zombie Tagging.

Cue Benny Hill music…  now.

Look at that fat bastard breaking character with a smile.  Just look at him!

Especially fun and easy to do with these Romero Specials.

If you survive the initial “holy shit” moment of the dead trying to teethrape your thinkjelly, eventually fragging zombies and staying alive is going to feel… well… mundane.  Hold your nay-saying, you pugilists, wait for it!  So, our game of Zombie Tagging is kind of like graffiti on moving objects– almost like a testament to your boredom and brass balls.  Cut that meat sack’s arms off, remove the jaw, and it’s largely harmless– then tag that rot puppet with some spray paint.

Think about it, you’re out wandering around– looking to loot, scavenge, or whatever you do for kicks– and you see a maimed zombie shambling around with a fuchsia penis spray painted on its face.  After the initial WTF has worn off, you have realized two things:

  1. Some badass has become so proficient at dropping zombies, they’ve made a game out of not killing them.
  2. It seems to be sprayed over another tag.

That’s right, you can mark your territory with shambling maggot popsicles just like it’s the good ol’ days in Compton.  Think about it, your pink trigger finger will strike terror into would-be raiders– because they’ve literally been following your work for weeks!

Other variants, of course, would be costuming your local horde.  Where’s Waldo never made your brain hurt that much, huh?  You can also up your difficulty level by getting wasted then going tagging (I’m not going to address the idea of Zombie Tetherball that was also brought up in this conversation because…  yeah.)  Or, hey, if you wanna be a real dick– boobytrap your tags with explosives.  I’ll let you figure out how that all works, I don’t want some automated webcrawler from Homeland Security picking up key words and party vanning my happy ass.

Ohhhhh... ohhh no....

Now the fun begins!

On to the real bastardy– because some of us just can’t keep the killing spree to the chewy-dead.  You see, the Zombpoc affords us all an opportunity unlike any other:  the ability to inflict death upon someone twice.  Yes, we were talking about all of this at a wake, don’t judge us.  This is just how things go sometimes when I go traditional formal– and forget people recognize re-purposed leather dusters.

So yeah, some people are excited for the Zombpoc because it means utter and complete anarchy– and that means they can do whatever the Hell they want and kill whatever moves.  The only foreseeable repercussions of acting like a total choad during the Zombpoc isn’t getting the cops called on you– but you could end up on the business end of a gun if you’re not careful.  Digression aside, some people have a kill list especially designed for the day someone forgets to say “Clattu Verata Nicto,” mainly because they don’t have to worry about the feds’ party van to counter their vengeful rampage.  Provided the horde doesn’t use ’em for an appetizer, of course.

Enter the concept of remurder.  Let’s work this by steps, shall we?

  1. Acquire intact, yet severed, zombie head.  Stuff it into a bag like you’re goddamn Perseus with Medusa’s fugly noggin.
  2. Acquire victim.  Mortally wound.
  3. Give victim “head.”
  4. Eat a sandwich while you wait for target to die, turn, then rise again.
  5. Rack up a re-spawn double kill.

Or, if you have a sweet base– behead your target, toss your trophy in a bucket, and create your own head museum.

Only creepier.

You know you have a special place wrapped in hate for someone if you’ll go through the effort to kill that summbitch twice, then take their still animated head as a trophy.  You can make faces at ’em, and they’ll even make faces back!  If that isn’t the ultimate f*** you, I don’t know what is.

Not to mention, nobody at your compound will mess with a Zombie Tagging, double-killed head bagging, amalgamation of deadite extermination like you.  If you really have to make a statement: have dinner around your trophies, shades of Vlad Tepes.  I know, grossly inappropriate conversation for tonight, guys…  we should be ashamed of ourselves.

If that hasn’t fired up a hot coal in Hell for me, this will:  Ex-Pope Benny gave up being Pontiff for Lent.


  1. […] that’s right.  That’s straight zombie territory.  We all know how I feel about that.  That isn’t even my problem with the whole […]

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