The zombie apocalypse is coming. I mean, how could it not? So many movies, comic books, TV shows... there’s got to be some truth behind it, hasn't there? This isn’t just some Hollywood make-believe like vampires or global warming. The walking dead are an inevitability. So how do you stay safe when the end is nigh? Read on, coffin-dodgers...
Designate roles, leave fat kids behind.
This is the END OF THE WORLD. Who cares if you lose a few friends along the way? There’s no Facebook anymore, so it doesn’t matter if there’s no one around to poke you. Judge your friends’ individual credentials and decide which of them will be best suited to accompanying you on the long road ahead, and then gently but firmly request that the others stay behind.
Put the burly athletic guy at the front, the scrawny academic at the back and the good looking girl who you never had a chance with until now right by your side, in preparation for the moment when you dramatically rescue her from an attacking brain-muncher. Leave the fat kid behind. Unless you ARE the fat kid, in which case, repeatedly inform them that you are absolutely integral to their survival and convince them to form a human shield around you and your bloated arse.
Take a shower you stinky bastard.
What with it being the apocalypse and all, you probably figure that now would be a good time to grow that Cast Away beard you’ve always wanted to. It’s got to be tempting to just go all Second Coming of Christ, sauntering around the wasteland with long, dishevelled locks, lengthy fingernails and bright yellow pit stains, but trust me – that’s not the way to go.
Now I’m no scientist, but I’m pretty certain that the less you bathe, the more odorous you become. It’s fine to refuse to wash when your girlfriend’s out of town for the week and all you’re doing is sitting in your underpants and watching the porn freeviews, but it’s another thing when you’ve got a pack of ravenous flesh-eating zombies hunting you down.
Find a safe house... then stay there.
Listen. You’re not in a George Romero movie. No matter how many times you stare poignantly into the sky, pondering your insignificance as the zombie threat looms closer, you must remind yourself that there is absolutely no one watching you. No film crew. No cameras. No one gives a shit about you and your plight, least not when they’re in the middle of, y’know, the APOCALYPSE and everything.
So when you find a safe spot, stay there. Don’t go wandering off trying to find that idealistic utopia where everybody else is headed to in the vein hope that their relatives will be there waiting for them (they won’t). Pack some sandwiches, a couple of books and spend the rest of your lifetime within those four walls. It’ll be depressing, of course, but I bet watching some bloke eat your intestines feels even worse.
Don’t be a hero (unless she’s really really good looking).
If you’re going to ignore my last rule (let’s face it, you are) and try to go all Rambo on the hordes of undead, then at least make sure you have an attractive female watching you do so. What’s the point in being a homicidal maniac if it doesn’t directly result in sex? You’ve seen Zombieland. D’you think Jesse Eisenberg would’ve gone toe-to-toe with that zombie clown if Emma Stone wasn’t waiting for him on the other side? Of course not.
They say think with your brains and not your balls, but it’s got to the point now where I find it almost impossible to differentiate between the two, so hack ‘n’ slash all you want as long as you wind up in bed with a goddess. If my childhood spent slumped in front of my Super Nintendo taught me anything, it’s that the best looking girls always need rescuing - just hope that your damsel in distress puts out more than Princess Peach did. Prude.
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Note: This article was originally published in 2011 but has been republished with edits.