I consider myself a rather adventurous guy but am equally cautious at whatever I do. Despite living in a relatively safe neighborhood, I decided to take a brief walk down the small road where I live near the beach. I met up with an old friend sitting on the beach who was three sheets in the wind. He told me there were some zombie sightings in the area and if push came to shove, he was prepared to make a mad dash into the sea.
Rather than laugh at Mitchell, I felt sorry for him. Perhaps he was experiencing a bout of depression from living the single life during the enduring pandemic. Therefore, I struck up a conversation with Mitch, as I sought to cheer him up and lessen his anxiety about his imagined zombies. We spoke for about 45 minutes before I forgot I had left my front door wide open. I dashed back to my house somewhat frantic, especially since darkness was falling.
I found that the screen door had been ripped off its fragile hinges. My refrigerator had been cleaned out of food and drink and the door was wide open, and my cat had also been mauled. Fresh blood stained the floor of my new carpeting.
Zombies? Maybe I needed a drink! I peered into my office where I had left my laptop and iMac on. I soon determined that my Bitcoin Cash had been stolen. I became infuriated. Though it was my fault to have left everything exposed, I was nevertheless incensed to the point of premeditated murder.
I took a few minutes to think it all through. Could a dumb zombie actually possess the wherewithal to steal my crypto? Sure, they could eat a horse in minutes, but mental faculties were not their strong suit.
As my anger diminished to a certain degree, I opened my window to catch the cool breeze coming in from the sea a scant 80 meters away. It was then that I saw a zombie eating my neighbor’s dog like it was a $20 cheeseburger. I grabbed a flashlight and prepared to head out the door.
The atmosphere was quiet until I fired the first shot from my Remington 12 gauge shotgun, taking the head off the half dead beast of what once had been a human. The blast, loud as it was, shattered what had been an otherwise peaceful night before the above-mentioned events occurred.
I stepped out onto the veranda first, and sure enough, the blast had attracted more zombies. I wondered if Mitchell had already jumped into the sea and had possibly drowned. A million thoughts raced through my spinning head.
What to do next?
That’s when I spotted a lone zombie with my red portable Bose speaker. I clicked the flashlight off. What was he going to do with it, eat it? Working quickly, I grabbed a clothesline made of old rope and fashioned a lasso.
Would it be strong enough to bring him down? Could I even make a clean attempt to loop it around his worthless neck? I had to give it a try; I had no choice other than to shoot again.
I tucked my loaded .357 Magnum into my waistband and ventured outside, creeping like a cat burglar. I didn’t want to alert any more zombies, most of which had already dispersed.
Before the lone zombie could catch my scent, I roped him like a calf and gave him a swift roundhouse kick to his skull, dropping my shotgun in the process. To my ultimate surprise, he spoke to me in perfect English! Was this a new breed of zombie caused by the pandemic or perhaps the effects of a vaccine? The thought passed quickly when the zombie actually spoke.
“Nice Bose outfit, man.” When he made an attempt to regain his balance, I again had no choice but to level my pistol at him, but I wanted questions and I wanted them immediately.
“Give it back or I’ll blow your head clean off your shoulders.” I pulled the hammer back, my finger resting calmly on the trigger. He sensed his imminent demise. I could see it in his glowing eyes.
He placed the speaker down like a crate of freshly delivered eggs. I peered around to ensure no other zombie had heard the click of my weapon, then returned my attention to the creature sprawled on the grass. The silence of the neighborhood was deafening. Was I the last and only person alive? “Jesus,” I muttered to myself.
“Were you in my house? Were you the thief who raided my food and killed my cat?’ There was a pause and then an expression of remorse came over his bloodied face.
“Yes sir, I was.” For a zombie, new breed or not, he had an air of intelligence about him.
“Are you the same one who stole my Bitcoin Cash wallet?” He merely nodded. A new wave of anger flared within me. I was tempted to send him on to his greater or lesser reward with the loaded gun.
I looked around anew to make sure nobody was creeping up on me. When I reverted my attention to the creature, I noticed he was crawling away slowly. “That’s far enough,” I muttered.
“May I have my bag and leave now?” he asked, apologetically. He pointed to what appeared to be a gunny sack. I clicked the flashlight back on and it was stock full of God only knew what.
“You stay put while I have a look,” I commanded. I opened the sack and it was full of items of every description: coins, rings, assorted jewelry, smartphones, cash, and other things I didn’t have time to sort through at the time. “Where did you get these things? I asked.
“We stole them from the dead we ate.”
“Well, pal, they’re all mine now. Get up and get moving. If you are not out of my sight on the count of 5, you’re a dead whatever the hell you are.”
He ran like a vampire at an alarming speed, but stopped at my gate. That’s when I let loose with another shotgun blast and put him out of his misery. I then hauled the bag of stolen goods up into my home.
My sleep was restless that night and I kept the light on, doors bolted, and my two weapons at the ready. When daybreak arrived, I peered out my window and saw no bodies.
I sorted through the contents of the sack and estimated approximately $100,000 plus worth of valuables. Later, as I scanned the neighborhood, it was deserted save for a few people apparently looking for family and friends.
I went into town and deposited $46,320.47 in my bank account, then sold the jewelry and other plunders, which I then deposited.
When all was said and done, I’d made close to $112,000. I promptly bought Bitcoin Cash with no remorse whatsoever. I also bought one Ethereum coin for good measure.
The funny thing about the event of that night was that no mention was ever made of zombies, dead people, or even evacuated homes. Oh, and I heard Mitch was found deceased on the beach, supposedly eaten by a shark. Conspiracy theorist or not, I knew there was a coverup by the government, but everybody was afraid to say a word about it.
