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Description
1.1

There was a total of, like, five seconds where I thought that I had a normal life. It wasn't straight out of the womb, oddly enough. Going from a nice warm, dark, weightless environment to the glaringly white hospital room, where it was cold, I had to try to support myself, and a doctor slapped my ass and chopped a section of of my penis. I knew instantly that my life was just going to keep getting worse and worse.

Those five seconds actually occurred the first time I had Taco Bell, just before the taco I was eating tried to start up a conversation with me (All things aside, it was one of the best tacos I have ever eaten). 'Well, this is good.' I thought, as I took my first bite. And then...

"Do I taste good to you? My brother..." the taco said. I don't know where it's mouth was, exactly. It was kind of just a voice in the back of my head. I responded with a seemingly nonchalant manner.

I finished that God damned taco.

Every other second of my life is and has been totally bat-shit insane. Many people do hold special interest in my story, for whatever reason, and have requested that I tell it to the world. I told them to fuck off, and then I started typing this. I'll start with a favorite amongst the air-headed girls you find taking blow off classes 'for the experience they'll need later in life', which translates to: 'I don't feel like taking a math class this semester'.

My Friend, Zombie

My 17th birthday was at least okay. A present from Rebekkah (some movie that I watched once or twice with her), and 100 dollars from my parents on whatever I want. I spent this one-hundred smackeroo's on a few video games I had an obsession with, and ate a good strawberry cake with cherry frosting. It was a relatively normal day, the Wal-Mart ghost only asked me twenty questions before it left me alone, and I didn't hit any giant bugs with my new 1989 convertible.

And at exactly 11:46 pm, after everyone was asleep and I had power-leveled my Oblivion Redguard (named Tupac) to the point where he could punch a man across a room, my birthday took a turn down bat-shit insane avenue. Or was it drive? Well, either way, it was crazy.

It's October, so it's relatively cold in my Mid-Michigan suburb. I look out my window, and for a second, I swear that I see this guy standing outside my window. Shirtless. Now, it was already snowing, because Global Warming obviously meant "Fuck Michigan" in some other language. This guy is all blue and shit, so I go out and say:

"Hey, uh, are you..."

Before I could finish the sentence, the blue guy was shuffling towards me, moaning. I figured, 'Hell, this guy is freezing, my parents are gone, I should probably help this dude out.' So, I let him in my house to warm up. If you had been through as much shit as I had been by that point in my life, letting a hypothermic dude in your house wouldn't have seemed like such a bad idea.

Anyways, he walks into my kitchen, a nice medium sized one with all the works, a stove, a broken microwave that turned the light on and spun, but never cooked anything unless you told it it was the sexiest toaster you had ever met (I still haven't told my parents this), a fridge and a sink. He just kind of stood there, staring at the wall. I asked, "Hey, you want a blanket?"

And when he turned around, I saw that his lips and eyes were sewn shut. At this point, I should explain that I had already seen a few voodoo zombie movies, the retro one that were in black and white, and this guy looked like he had been pulled straight from it.

I hate to admit it, but I screamed and ran from the room. In those old movies, they always ended up killing somebody, and some big chined heroic guy would come in and save the day. I was not this guy, nor did I know anybody with hair blond enough, or chin manly enough to save my ass. After a few seconds of panicked thought, I looked back in, and noticed the guy was feeling around like he was blind.

Oh, my name is TJ by the way. I'm 18 now, so this all happened a year ago.

Anyways, the voodoo guy is feeling around, knocking things off of my counter, before he found a cupboard door. He opened it, felt around, and got out a box of cereal. After a few minutes, he opened it, sniffed in the box, and set it on the counter. He looked around, found my fridge, opened the door, and found the milk.

This zombie wanted to eat my brans.

Description
1.1

There was a total of, like, five seconds where I thought that I had a normal life. It wasn't straight out of the womb, oddly enough. Going from a nice warm, dark, weightless environment to the glaringly white hospital room, where it was cold, I had to try to support myself, and a doctor slapped my ass and chopped a section of of my penis. I knew instantly that my life was just going to keep getting worse and worse.

Those five seconds actually occurred the first time I had Taco Bell, just before the taco I was eating tried to start up a conversation with me (All things aside, it was one of the best tacos I have ever eaten). 'Well, this is good.' I thought, as I took my first bite. And then...

"Do I taste good to you? My brother..." the taco said. I don't know where it's mouth was, exactly. It was kind of just a voice in the back of my head. I responded with a seemingly nonchalant manner.

I finished that God damned taco.

Every other second of my life is and has been totally bat-shit insane. Many people do hold special interest in my story, for whatever reason, and have requested that I tell it to the world. I told them to fuck off, and then I started typing this. I'll start with a favorite amongst the air-headed girls you find taking blow off classes 'for the experience they'll need later in life', which translates to: 'I don't feel like taking a math class this semester'.

My Friend, Zombie

My 17th birthday was at least okay. A present from Rebekkah (some movie that I watched once or twice with her), and 100 dollars from my parents on whatever I want. I spent this one-hundred smackeroo's on a few video games I had an obsession with, and ate a good strawberry cake with cherry frosting. It was a relatively normal day, the Wal-Mart ghost only asked me twenty questions before it left me alone, and I didn't hit any giant bugs with my new 1989 convertible.

And at exactly 11:46 pm, after everyone was asleep and I had power-leveled my Oblivion Redguard (named Tupac) to the point where he could punch a man across a room, my birthday took a turn down bat-shit insane avenue. Or was it drive? Well, either way, it was crazy.

It's October, so it's relatively cold in my Mid-Michigan suburb. I look out my window, and for a second, I swear that I see this guy standing outside my window. Shirtless. Now, it was already snowing, because Global Warming obviously meant "Fuck Michigan" in some other language. This guy is all blue and shit, so I go out and say:

"Hey, uh, are you..."

Before I could finish the sentence, the blue guy was shuffling towards me, moaning. I figured, 'Hell, this guy is freezing, my parents are gone, I should probably help this dude out.' So, I let him in my house to warm up. If you had been through as much shit as I had been by that point in my life, letting a hypothermic dude in your house wouldn't have seemed like such a bad idea.

Anyways, he walks into my kitchen, a nice medium sized one with all the works, a stove, a broken microwave that turned the light on and spun, but never cooked anything unless you told it it was the sexiest toaster you had ever met (I still haven't told my parents this), a fridge and a sink. He just kind of stood there, staring at the wall. I asked, "Hey, you want a blanket?"

And when he turned around, I saw that his lips and eyes were sewn shut. At this point, I should explain that I had already seen a few voodoo zombie movies, the retro one that were in black and white, and this guy looked like he had been pulled straight from it.

I hate to admit it, but I screamed and ran from the room. In those old movies, they always ended up killing somebody, and some big chined heroic guy would come in and save the day. I was not this guy, nor did I know anybody with hair blond enough, or chin manly enough to save my ass. After a few seconds of panicked thought, I looked back in, and noticed the guy was feeling around like he was blind.

Oh, my name is TJ by the way. I'm 18 now, so this all happened a year ago.

Anyways, the voodoo guy is feeling around, knocking things off of my counter, before he found a cupboard door. He opened it, felt around, and got out a box of cereal. After a few minutes, he opened it, sniffed in the box, and set it on the counter. He looked around, found my fridge, opened the door, and found the milk.

This zombie wanted to eat my brans.