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if you are reading this, you are the resistance.
The city is the last place you want to be when the zombie apocalypse hits. Manila is a city of around 19 million people, and that's 19 million potential zombies demanding UUUTAAAAK UUUUTAAAAK, and only the three of us.
I say we should move, but my brother says no, too many of our neighbors have been turned, it's too dangerous. We'll take the car, but Dad says there's not enough gas to take us out of the city. If traffic worsens during the rainy season, imagine how much worse it is with zombies roaming the streets. I wonder if he just doesn't know how to get out of the city. The only one of us who ever really knew her way around Manila was Mom. We ask Dad if he has a gun, and he throws up his hands and says, "Why would I have a gun!"
(The last we heard of Mom was a phone call to Dad, but he could barely make out anything she was saying. "Hello?" he kept saying. "What's all that noise in the background?" The call cut out, and when I asked him what Mom wanted, he gave me a confused look and said, "To lock the doors and windows, and stay inside.")
What would Sam Raimi do? All I know about zombies I learned from writing Merlin zombie crackfic, and maybe I shouldn't have spent all of 28 Days Later hiding behind a pillow and making undignified squeaky noises. If only I could go back and watch Resident Evil in greater detail, learning Milla Jovovich's ways... but it is too late for that.
We need to grab weapons and move upstairs. And food, grab food, gotta prepare. Are the doors locked? Good. You have to go for higher ground. Grab the vegetable oil, so we can have fire weapons. Dad finds a trash bag and we throw shit inside, and we hear screams coming from the house next door. I tell them we need to block the stairs, maybe shove some furniture down the stairwell. Chairs, desks, computers, my dad makes a sound of sorrow when we also toss the HDTV. Speakers, lamps, god what else.
I feel like a sitting duck here on the third floor, with our kitchenware-cum-weaponry and our instant noodles in a bag. What are we going to cook the noodles in anyway? I ask this, but no one wants to go back downstairs to get crockery. We'll figure something out, Dad says. We can just eat the ramen raw with the spices sprinkled on it, says my brother. Dad says, we could. When I ask if we're safe or cornered, no one meets my eye.
I'm making this LJ post while I still can. Who knows how long it'll be before the zombies destroy the provider and the electricity cuts out? I just want to say to everyone out there who is also fighting zombies and still checking their LJ that you are not alone. I am fighting zombies and checking my LJ along with you. Do not give up! Remember that the night is indeed darkest just before the dawn, and also to stay away from the windows. FIGHT ON.
I say we should move, but my brother says no, too many of our neighbors have been turned, it's too dangerous. We'll take the car, but Dad says there's not enough gas to take us out of the city. If traffic worsens during the rainy season, imagine how much worse it is with zombies roaming the streets. I wonder if he just doesn't know how to get out of the city. The only one of us who ever really knew her way around Manila was Mom. We ask Dad if he has a gun, and he throws up his hands and says, "Why would I have a gun!"
(The last we heard of Mom was a phone call to Dad, but he could barely make out anything she was saying. "Hello?" he kept saying. "What's all that noise in the background?" The call cut out, and when I asked him what Mom wanted, he gave me a confused look and said, "To lock the doors and windows, and stay inside.")
What would Sam Raimi do? All I know about zombies I learned from writing Merlin zombie crackfic, and maybe I shouldn't have spent all of 28 Days Later hiding behind a pillow and making undignified squeaky noises. If only I could go back and watch Resident Evil in greater detail, learning Milla Jovovich's ways... but it is too late for that.
We need to grab weapons and move upstairs. And food, grab food, gotta prepare. Are the doors locked? Good. You have to go for higher ground. Grab the vegetable oil, so we can have fire weapons. Dad finds a trash bag and we throw shit inside, and we hear screams coming from the house next door. I tell them we need to block the stairs, maybe shove some furniture down the stairwell. Chairs, desks, computers, my dad makes a sound of sorrow when we also toss the HDTV. Speakers, lamps, god what else.
I feel like a sitting duck here on the third floor, with our kitchenware-cum-weaponry and our instant noodles in a bag. What are we going to cook the noodles in anyway? I ask this, but no one wants to go back downstairs to get crockery. We'll figure something out, Dad says. We can just eat the ramen raw with the spices sprinkled on it, says my brother. Dad says, we could. When I ask if we're safe or cornered, no one meets my eye.
I'm making this LJ post while I still can. Who knows how long it'll be before the zombies destroy the provider and the electricity cuts out? I just want to say to everyone out there who is also fighting zombies and still checking their LJ that you are not alone. I am fighting zombies and checking my LJ along with you. Do not give up! Remember that the night is indeed darkest just before the dawn, and also to stay away from the windows. FIGHT ON.
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In a zombie apocalypse, I will probably rule the world.
I've already observed my house and checked to see what its weaknesses and strengths are in case of a zombie apocalypse. I know which room to go to, how to escape said room if cornered by zombies.
*sigh*
I live way too much on the internet.
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I open the front door to my best friend, who is smeared with mud and carrying the kind of gun (or possibly rifle?) the people usually telling this kind of story always seem to know how to name.
"[Allothi]!" she says. "You're still alive!"
"Yeah, just about, a little tired, now that you mention it..."
"There's been a zombie apocalypse!"
"Oh," I say. "Um." But I know the correct response to all personal, political, natural and apocalyptical disasters: "Cup of tea?"
"Ooh, yes please! Do you still have any Rose Pouchong left?"
I do.
Later, we take to the streets. They are littered with the bodies of redead and redying zombies.
"What happened to them?" I ask.
"They discovered deep-fried Mars Bars." My friend shakes her head, with a sigh. "All that cholesterol and sugar. Wreaks havoc with the zombie constitution."
Ah, the deep fat fryer. Scotland's natural defence against apocalupseis.
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I WOULD LIKE A CUP OF TEEEA
What is this deep-fried Mars bar?! It... sounds delicious. It is like the deep-fried ice cream?
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It is somewhat like deep-fried ice cream, in that it is basically sugar and fat, deep-fried. Mars Bars have a sort of fluffy, squodgy chocolate filling, plus gooey caramel on top of that, and the whole is encased in chocolate. Though I am using the term 'chocolate' very broadly here. Coincidentally, Mars Bars are also sometimes melted and poured over ice cream. Which is something of an experience, though, years later, I still haven't decided whether it was a good or a bad one.
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OH MAN. That sounds like nothing but a good experience. I have an incurable sweet tooth, as my cavities can attest. My dad brought back durian and cheese rolls, which actually aren't as horrible as it would sound, but I'm awfully forgiving when it comes to anything sweets-related and the rolls were gone fairly quickly.
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Yeah, most people I know think so. I think I've sort of rejigged my palate with all the chocolate tasting.
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Are you a coffee person at all? Hazelnut coffee, yea nay? Yea.
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I <3 coffee, including fabulous trashy flavoured kinds, but one of the interesting things about being me is that I am generally extremely sensitive to most kinds of non-tea caffeine. So if I have more than a very small mug I go a bit insane, talk very fast and go through about a hundred ideas a minute, and then I crash very suddenly and possibly fall over.
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Yeah yeah, see I consider myself a foodie in that I am curious to eat (almost) EVERYTHING. My palate may or may not be able to distinguish different whatever, but my taste doesn't care. My last year of undergrad, I was on my own little grocery island because none of my roommates eat Funyuns (http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/askville/11802795_13254777_mywrite/funyun.jpg) and SnoBalls (http://www.planetdan.net/pics/misc/snoballz.jpg) and all the other fun junk food no one eats anymore once they hit puberty. How I stayed at average BMI for my height and age is a mystery of the universe.
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When zombies attack I always welcome them graciously into my home and then hit them with my giant Greek dictionary. It throws them into confusion long enough to decapitate them!
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