I remember I was interning at the local news office. I wanted to be a journalist. Needless to say that there is plenty of fodder for that "industry" now. Heheh. How ironic.
In some ways I feel like I spent my whole life preparing for this. My father was one of those Southern "the end is neigh" types, something I have found to be typical of Vietnam vets. For as long as I can remember our garage was always stocked with MREs and cartons of water. He never liked the city. He would plan our residences based on fallout safe zones, places in the middle of nowhere for example, or in a canyon. My mother on the other hand, complete and utter opposite. Head always in the clouds, fingers on the keys. She taught me how to appreciate beauty, but most importantly, she was an RN.
So, when that mother-fucking runner burst through my window while I was making love to my boyfriend on the kitchen counter and ripped a hole the size of my fist into his jugular, I knew what to do. Ran into my room and grabbed the Mossberg from under my bed, turned face and with the steady aim of my father, shot them both in the head. *laughs* Not like I really needed to aim well, my bf was foaming and convulsing about three feet away and Mr. Surprise was damn near touching the tip of my barrel. Don't give me that look, I loved that boy very much. John... That's my one big regret, that I didn't turn tail and run as soon as the news hit the office. We all knew, but the government told us to keep it hush hush. *sigh* So! That's about all there is to know about lil' ol' me. Let's go kick some zombie butt!
At the time of the zombie outbreak I was...
Santa Clarita, CA
Weapon of choice for fighting zombies...
My Mossberg 500 (AKA Blossom), the cute little Lady Smith (AKA Bubbles,) and a Glock (AKA Buttercup.)
How did you find out about LostZombies.com...
Zombie Pix added me as a friend on Twitter.
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