What. The. Fuck.

I came home from my toga party into a total shit storm. First of all, I got back right when everyone should have been getting off work, at the closest thing we have to rush hour. Not a car on the road. What the hell? I flipped on the news when I got home (I never used to watch the news this much) and all it said was “stay in your homes” over and over again as they went over how widespread the biting shit had become, apparently literally overnight while I was in Duluth (where my friends said they were experiencing a similar problem).

But for the most part, everything seemed fairly normal. No more arrests or hospitalizations than the normal amounts caused by immigrant stabbings. At least not noticeably. Then I get back to this ghost town. Which is kind of a misnomer because everyone’s just hiding in their houses. Right? Like during the Black Plague when everyone was ordered to stay inside. And I didn’t see any carts full of bodies go by down the street either. Not at that point, anyway.

So, as the news instructed, I hung out inside. That’s not to say that I’m one to obey in most situations, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to be the only person outside. And I would have been. So I went online. At first it was the usual, check out my webcomics, check out my video game news, Youtube. Same shit, different day. Then I drifted over to Facebook and what are my Bemidji friends posting? “Get out of town.” “As fast as you can while you still can.” “Get away from civilization.” “North to the woods.” “West to the plains.” “Run.

What. The. Fuck. I peeked out my front window. It was dark but I could see what was going on with the help of the light on the garage across the street. A lady was trying to get in her car when another person lunged out of her hedges and took her down. I snatched my cell off my desk and punched in 9-1-1. All I got was a recording that went something like “All dispatchers are currently unavailable. Please hold while-” at which point I hung up because holy shit. This was at about midnight but here’s where it gets really fucked up.

When I pulled it to town at 5, I had to drive past the graveyard again. I didn’t really pay attention at the time because I was wondering where all the traffic was, but I’m pretty sure all the new graves looked disturbed. Or I don’t know, messed with. Like someone had exhumed the bodies, but not enough dirt had been displaced to make it look like the whole coffin had been pulled up. Which sounds stupid like the crap the recycling guy told me, but now I know it’s not stupid and the stuff he told me wasn’t crap.

After not getting a hold of the cops, I heard one of my windows shatter near the back of my house. Just for kicks, I tried 911 again, but there was nothing. I’d have to handle it myself. I sprinted to my bedroom and snatched my Five-seveN out of my nightstand like I had just done on Tuesday. And today, like on Tuesday, I shot a guy.

YEAH, I KILLED A GUY. He attacked me at my own house. I didn’t need the cops to either not be able to find him or at best, give him a fine for assault. The guy knew where I live. I don’t need that shit forever. And after today, the cops have proven to me that they are no help. Not to me at least.

So I’m raiding the back end of my own god damn house and I find the busted window in my spare room. I move toward the door I didn’t come through and there’s the same fucking hobo I killed on Tuesday. I put a round in his chest. Double tap. The good ole three from Tuesday. My whole clip. The shots slowed him down, but he didn’t even flinch. And he sure as hell didn’t go down like home invaders are supposed to when you shoot them. But now I had a problem. I was out of bullets and this jerky, moaning, dirt-covered fuck was staggering up in my grill.

I Sparta kicked him back through the doorway and speed-scanned the spare room for something, anything I could use to save my bacon. I have a lot of crap in my spare room but nothing looked like- there! Baseball bat.

This was not going to be fun.

I grabbed the Louisville Slugger from the corner as the should-be-dead hobo struggled to his feet. I swung the bat horizontally, trying to match up the sweet spot of the bat with the sweet spot of his head. The bat sunk into his skull with a sickening crunch, splattering the wall with gore, grey matter, and chunks of bone. He dropped (finally, dammit), but was twitching. I hesitated, then brought the bat down on his cranium one last time, causing drops of blood to fly up and hit me in the face.

So uh, then it was wash my face first or get rid of the body first? I decided on the body. I meant to drag out to my garage, but once I got to my driveway, in the light from a street lamp, I saw a silhouette slowly making its way down the alley toward me. I dropped the body right then there because the cops were too busy to even bother with me, at least for now, and also because fuck that. Fuck that.

Then I washed my face and tried to wash my floor. As well as stay quiet as possible. Periodically I peeked out the windows and watched the occasional person stumble by like a trickle of drunks coming out of the Toasty Beaver at 2 in the morning. I put my dog in the basement with a big bowl of food and a soft bed. He’s been quiet. He’s a good dog.

Now I just need to figure out if I should stay put (like the news said) or get the hell out of Dodge (like the Facebook said), neither group being one I normally trust for advice. Does anyone know what the fuck is going on?


To-ga, To-ga!

Yeah so now on the news they’re actually referring to this shit as a series, quickly describing each attack as they rattle off the list. Over half have been in hospitals and clinics. I’d say it’s obvious these people aren’t all criminals or psychopaths or anything, but the question then is what the hell is wrong with them? Why are people biting each other? And don’t even say “OMG ZOMBIES LOL” because that’s idiotic. And besides, these bitey people die even from a shot to the chest, not only the head. Uh, that was on the news.  Yeah.

Even weirder, this stuff my recycling guy told me. I was taking my cans and bottles down to the recycling dumpster, which was overflowing, and he was there with his truck backed up to it. He had to pick up whatever had flowed over by hand which I thought was pretty shitty. So I helped him with it, being the nice person that I am, who never shoots or bludgeons anyone for any reason. Luckily he didn’t try to bite me or I would have had to take him down and stuff his body in the dumpster, not that I’ve ever had to do anything like that.

But I decided to ask him about the shit that’s been going on lately. He said he didn’t really know what could be going on, but that he’d had to flee a few pick up spots when people tried to attack him. They all looked sick, he said. Bloodshot eyes, drool, snarling. “But get this,” he said. “My friend Joe’s cousin Steve told him he heard about this 911 call. The caller said he had been attacked by a biter and killed the person. The cops showed up, saw the body, and started asking the caller questions outside the house while they waited for the CSI to show up. CSI gets there, body’s gone.”

“No shit,” I said. “You bet your ass,” the recycling guy said as he tossed a bag of cans into his truck. “At least that’s what I heard. But there’s more.”

“Don’t tell me. The caller ended up attacking the cops.”

“How’d you know?” Because zombies but I don’t believe it. Not for a second. He continued.

“My uncle plays poker with this guy whose wife told the girl I’m seeing that the cops’ve had to kill a whole buncha people in the police station and hospitals. Both the attackers at the station and the victims in the hospitals for turning on the doctors and nurses. And then even those same doctors and nurses. The press has no idea.”

“For fuck’s sake, are you trying to tell me this is the beginning of the zombie apocalypse?”

“Just telling you what I heard, guy. I think all that horror stuff is stupid, myself.”

“How would any of these people know any of this?”

“Just telling you what I heard.”

Driving past the graveyard today I saw that the three graves that were empty the other day were filled, dirt packed neatly on top and bulging up from the ground due to the extra volume of the coffin. But there weren’t only three, there were at least ten. Probably more like fifteen. I wonder if they just skipped the funerals and threw em in the ground to dodge the press. No, that’s stupid. The recycling guy is stupid.

It’ll be nice to get out of town though. I’m heading down to Duluth for a toga party. I know back in Rome they drank wine, but I’m not a fan. I’m not a fan of beer either. No, tonight it will be Smirnoff and Monster. Mix the uppers and the downers to keep it going long and strong. I know it’s stupid. But I need to get out of the town with all the freshly-filled graves and do something stupid and have some fun. I’m scheduling this to go up at 4 PM. I’ll be back tomorrow. Forget the biting and violence. Anyone else doing something fun tonight?

Biting Epidemic? Maybe there’s something in the water.

Thank you all for being so helpful with my “dilemma” yesterday. For lack of better advice, I ended up just burying it somewhere else far, far away from me. I thought about taking it to the landfill but I figured someone who works there would see it and, I don’t know, say something. Or call the cops. That would be bad. At any rate, it’s definitely NOT still in my yard.

I’m just KIDDING! Obviously. I haven’t seen that crazy bastard in over twenty four hours. But seriously, what’s the deal with all of the violence lately? I mean, I’ve seen Bowling for Columbine. I know how we are. It’s just that it’s usually gun shootings and knife stabbings, and up on the rez. I saw on the news that someone attacked someone else in front of Taco Bell with their teeth.

Obviously that place is fucked and it could have been the food (Gallons of sour cream or Mad Cow-infected bull jizz? Which is cheaper?), except. Except. Not two seconds later, they switched to a story about a finding of two bodies under the bleachers at the college completely disemboweled. Not cleanly. Police have been getting emergency calls of people narrowly escaping people trying to bite them. A nurse was hospitalized when a patient tore a chunk out of her arm. Arrests are through the roof.

I mean it’s just nuts. I’ve never seen so much violence at one time, much less seemingly without a purpose. Much less so… feral. Maybe it’s something in the water. Better dredge Lake Bemidji. JK, I’d rather they didn’t. Why? I don’t know, I just…

Look, it’s a pristine portrait of nature’s beauty, all right? Leave it alone. It’s probably something in the air, anyway. They should… take air samples, or something.

I drove past the graveyard across from the football field on my way to Target today. I saw at least three fresh graves empty, waiting to be filled. Piles of dirt next to them. I’m usually a pretty apathetic person, but that was eerie.

Story time! I walked out of Hagg Sauer this afternoon, through the door closest to the lake because I wanted to take the scenic route up the back street along the shore to the Bangsburg parking lot. So I’m walking along, chillin, you know. Then I see some blood on the ground. Yeah. No shit.

Then there was more. And more, and more until I realized I was following a trail. It only briefly and faintly dawned on me that there would likely be something… unpleasant at the end. So I kept walking. Listening to the wind through the trees (cliche because it’s a common noise, so eff off) and my feet scratching on the concrete, and grunting and flesh rending and blood splattering on the ground…

Dafuq? I slowed to a knees-bent stealth walk as I edged along the side opposite of, oh. There was a bush rustling, too. On the right. So I was edging along the left side of the trail, peaking into the brush. That was when I saw the blonde chick digging a hole in a guy’s chest cavity with her face.

Now, obviously that was terrifying. But when she looked up at me- her face would have been really pretty in normal circumstances, but it was covered in blood- and when she locked eyes with me, and I saw something that was anything but humanity…

When you watch actors portraying zombies, even the best ones, and they have that empty-ass look in their eye, it’s believable. And if you ever have the misfortune to be stared down by someone who actually wants and means to kill you, that’s terrifying. But what I saw in the eyes of what was left of that girl… There are no words.

Shocked only momentarily, I kicked in autopilot and mobilized. Patted my pockets, instinctively. But obviously I don’t carry a weapon. Looked around. Trees. Looked down. Rock! Yes! As the girl-thing lunged at me, I bent to pick up the rock. She tripped over my crouched form and fell. I spun and brought the rock down on her forehead- one good crunch and she was still.

Panting and shaking, I drug her body into the woods next to the empty dude. Walked, as quickly but naturally as possible, to my car. Popped the trunk and pulled out my cinder block and (short) synthetic rope I save for these kinds of occasions.

If you can’t tell where this is going, I tied them together, tied the bundle to the block, stole a canoe, and dropped them in the middle of Lake Bemidji. Well, not exactly in the middle. That would be too obvious. And if you actually believed any of that, you’re an idiot!

I never even saw any people like that, and they’re not sunk at the bottom of the lake, either. Just like that hobo isn’t buried in a stand of trees downtown, and definitely not still in my yard! Duh!

Heh. But whether you believed it or not, I hope you enjoyed the story. Seriously though, this biting violent streak thing is hella weird. Tell me what you think in the comments. And no “The zombies have come!” Be real.

Damned, Crazy (Still Alive) Bums

So I was walking home from a friend’s house yesterday and there was this homeless man sitting on the sidewalk at the end of my block. He asked me for some change as I walked by and I was, I don’t know, I was feeling generous yesterday so I shoved my hand in my jacket pocket and gave him whatever I came up with which was a dollar bill and some coins. And maybe a cheap lighter. I guess he had something to light his crack with for a day.

What?! Don’t think I can’t assume homeless people are drug addicts. You don’t know me. First of all, they usually are. Second, I’m not done with my story. So shut up.

Sorry. I’m just kind of freaked out. Reason being that when I got home after some errands late this morning this guy was hanging around in the alley right behind my house. Which, you  know, hey. I don’t really appreciate it, but if he just chills and I forget he’s there, then whatever. If he gets annoying, maybe I call the cops. Depends on my mood. If he keeps begging at me I’ll definitely call them, though. That’s what I thought as I pulled into my driveway. No way I could’ve known the situation would be way, way worse than that, or that there would be no way in Hell I’d be calling the cops. Because even I know better.

I step out of my car (making sure to lock it. Duh.) staring at the back of my house because I don’t want to accidentally make eye contact with this guy and give him half a reason to ask me for more money. Or get me sick. His eyes were all bloodshot and I think there was some drool running down his chin. Anyway, I had no idea where exactly he was because I was trying not to look at him. But this motherfucker must have had the quietest shoes in the world because, turns out, he was sprinting across my driveway at me. I had no idea until he tackled me from behind, knocking the wind out of me and slamming my face into the concrete. It also felt like he was trying to take a chomp out of my ass through my jacket, but there’s no way. Right? I guess anything’s possible with crazy people.

I kicked him off and scrambled to my feet. He got up slowly and jerkily as I ran to my back door. I slammed it and locked it and my dog started barking like an idiot and there was no way I was going to calm him down because I was clearly not calm, and he can tell. I ran to my bedroom, snatched my Five-seveN from my night stand, and dashed back to the door. My dog was still barking. The homeless guy was pounding on the door and violently rattling the knob. I yelled at him to fuck off or I would call the cops, but he didn’t stop or say anything. I yelled again and he still kept on. No words. Only, and I swear to God, what sounded like snarling. I peeked through the blind and involuntarily took a step back at the sight of his cracked, bleeding lips and rotting, gnashing teeth.

Then I called the cops who said they were pretty busy today but that they’d send a squad car when they could, which ended up being an hour and forty five minutes later. It only took twenty minutes for the banging on my door to stop and another fifteen for my dog to stop barking. When the squad car finally showed up, the officer told me they’d keep an eye peeled for the guy. Right. They’ll never find him.

So that was crazy and unwelcome, but let’s have some fun now, huh? Let’s have some fun after all the crazy… stuff. Let’s say, hypothetically, that instead of calling the slow-as-hell cops, I decided to whip my door open and shoot him in the chest. Three times. Drag his body into the garage. Dig a shallow hole in my yard and bury him in it. Hypothetically speaking, what would be the best thing to do with the body? Obviously I can’t couldn’t leave it in my yard. Only rules are no butchering or parceling out the body (because fucking gross, that’s why) and no burning it, because I want to be able to enjoy fried meats in the coming weeks. I mean I would.