Guest Blog – Paul is a zombie now…true story

Guys…I don’t know how to tell you this but you remember Paul right? He did a piece on here awhile back which made us all chuckle and forget our worries? You know…this one. Remember how he USED to be alive? Well…he’s more “Undead” now. I didn’t really know how to tell you this story using human words so I decided to get the story straight from the Zombies mouth. That’s right…Paul is a Zombie now.

August 3rd 2012 01:20am

Location: Vancouver, Canada… eh.

The story had taken over almost every TV station within minutes. An incident in which 6 animal liberation activists (hippies) broke into a Vancouver laboratory and are caught by a mad scientist while trying to free some chimpanzees being used for medical research. Despite the warnings of the chief mad scientist that the chimps are infected with a virus dubbed “damn dirty ape disease” which he claimed is highly contagious and only takes one bite or cheeky wink to spread. Unfortunately those damn hippies open the cages anyway releasing the shit flingers. One particularly frisky chimp attacked a female activist immediately infecting her; she in turn infects the other members of the group, including the chief scientist when he attempted to kill her. Exposure, Infection and Outbreak… All in one evening.

August 3rd 2012 9:20am

Location: London, England… yeah baby!

During these events, I had just boarded my flight departing an Olympic frenzied London on my way back to Vancouver. The pilot made announcements during the flight that he had lost contact with ground control at our destination however he still intended to safely land the plane with or without their assistance.

After a shaky landing we departed the plane on the runway and made our way to the airport entrance. The airport building itself appeared deserted, seemingly empty and eerily quiet. I waited 3 hours for my bags, everyone aboard my flight had already left long ago. With no one manning the information desk and several fun filled trips through the X-ray machine I decided to leave too.

Outside, I discovered a deserted Vancouver with signs of catastrophe everywhere. I look at my phone… no signal. Trying to find someone, anyone I stumble across a group of people, eating flesh, the flesh of the other passengers aboard my flight! As I approached they spotted me and tried to attack. I fought the first wave off with a stainless steel kettle I ‘borrowed’ from an unmanned airport café. The clanging of the kettle against there skulls made a noise similar to a Chinese gong and attracted hordes of the freaks.

I ran to a nearby gas station with the zombies giving chase. In the last minute, thinking quickly, I burst threw the stations store doors, grabbed a box of matches, returned to the forecourt and doused the entire area in petrol. Whilst leaving all the pumps running I hastily return to the store, barricading the door behind me. When I was sure the entire horde was on the forecourt I calmly put on a pair of cheap sunglasses, lit a single match, looked at the horde and said ‘‘nice day for a barbeque’.

That clever quip was followed by a skillful flick of a single lit match through a small cracked opening on the window the head zombie managed to cause with his fucked up head. The flame ignited. Without looking back, I headed for the back door; bursting forth I made a dash through the stations car park followed by a cool as fuck dynamic slow motion leap over a huge mother fucking pick up truck at the point of explosion…. And I never looked back… not fucking once!

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I had little time to celebrate my epic manliness as I realized that the blast no doubt attracted zombies from a 10 mile radius so I after searching a few cars I find a set of keys in an abandoned police cruiser and got the hell outta dodge.

Cruising towards downtown thinking that would be my best hope in finding some shred of humanity or at least a McDonalds that is still serving breakfast… no such hope. I stopped at a dive bar on the outskirts of the city. Taking two pistols I found in the glove compartment I decided to drown my sorrows for a while. After clearing the place of its undead residents I pour myself a scotch and watch the emergency broadcast bulletins on the pubs TV. This is where I first learnt how the breakout happened and that Vancouver was put on lockdown… nobody in and nobody out.

Realizing how fucked I am I turn to my only friend in the world, the one that’s been there since the beginning, through the good times and bad…. my one true pal…Mr. Hard Liquor. A bottle of 25 year old Whiskey and a fist full of pain killers went down a little too smooth and before I knew it I was a one man karaoke competition on the pubs jukebox. It took little time for the hordes to hear my epic rendition of ‘You Gave Love a Bad Name’ that would put that dick Bon Jovi to shame (I did sing it 14 times after demanding encores from myself). The zombies pushed open the doors I forgot to lock and made their way towards me on the stage. I put the mike on its stand, took aim with my pistols and served up some hot lead without messing up a single fucking song line LIKE A BOSS. The pistols loud echoing bang turned into a hollow sounding click… the chambers were empty. The song ended and I got no applause (they were a tough crowd). One last swig from the bottle… then everything went dark.

I awoke several hours later in a daze with a headache that could slay a yeti on steroids. With no memory of the night before and a mouth as dry as Gandhi’s flip flop I spot the pub washroom and crawl to the sink within. Taking several mouthfuls of the filthy water I realize I’m more extremely hungry than thirsty. I rub my eyes, gaze at the mirror and upon seeing the butchered remains of my once glorious face I panicked, realizing my modeling career was over before it even got started I turned quickly to run away but tripped over my own intestines that were hanging from my stomach the whole time.

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“Wanna know how I got these scars?”

2 weeks have passed since that fateful day and I’ve been finding it hard to adapt to zombie life (the work is hard and the pay is shite). It’s not easy making friends either as the other zombie kids beat me up, rip of my limbs or steal my food (brains). Irish Zombies are a few and far between you see and the accent doesn’t go down as well as it did before the outbreak… especially not with the senoritas…

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Undead life be a harsh mistress.

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“This lad wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed and gave us horrendous diarrhea”

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“Welcome to my crib MTV, Lemme show ya my rides 1st”

The Zombie formally known as Paul.


About thecityfathers

We sit around all day stroking our beards, clucking our tongues and discussing what's to be done with this Homer Simpson
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One Response to Guest Blog – Paul is a zombie now…true story

  1. Pingback: So it’s come to this… A City Fathers Clipshow | The City Fathers

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