It's A Short Leap From Idea To Madness; Chapter 40: When It All Comes Tumbling Down
This is for the now-defunct ths_just_in
Title: It's A Short Leap From Idea To Madness; Chapter 40: When It All Comes Tumbling Down
Author: kick_back_80s (Larry Wilmore)
Rating: R
A/N: Oh, yeah... there's totally inhuman elements involved with this...
Warnings: ...the undead... see: A/N
Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person). Any mention of 'Comedy Central', 'The Daily Show‘, 'The Colbert Report', 'Root of All Evil', 'Strangers with Candy', 'AC 360', 'Verdict with Dan Abrams', 'Countdown with Keith Olbermann', 'The Late Show with Conan O'Brien', 'MSNBC', 'CNN', 'NBC', any associated entities, or any copyrighted material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976, and is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material.
It's after I throw my last grenade and run through the smoke-filled intersection (breathing through the gas mask that's seen more action than I'm pretty sure its creators ever meant it to) that I realize... I'm pretty sure this is the end of the world, because this has to be when it all comes tumbling down.
It's got to be, at least in terms of my sanity. How else do you explain the fact that every-one's a fucking zombie?! Entire civilizations decapitated in the mass hunt for braaaaains (just like that-- the drawn out "aaaaa." You'd think we would have been wrong about the zombies like we were wrong about everything else, but noooo... The zombies are just like we've always pictured them in B-rated Hollywood movies with lousy stage makeup-- decaying with a single-minded hunt for gray matter). And damn it if I wasn't stuck in New York when the infestation spread to the States (mostly because New York was the first to be hit with the massive outbreak in the States and the first to be closed off from the rest of the world, both major airports shutting down, ports and bridges being closed systematically to trap us here in hopes that the disease wouldn't spread).
Which, THANK YOU, EUROPE! Because of you, European nations, the entire world (at least, my entire world), is now subjected to hiding out with flame throwers (and where the hell is Will Smith with some epic zombie cure when you need him? Is it because they went with the "o hey, I die" ending? WILL SMITH, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME? ...I guess Wyatt will have to do...). And it's not like we weren't already complaining about greenhouse gasses and low oil reservoirs... at least we don't drive much anymore (there's no telling what's hiding in the back seat or trunk of shells of cars). We just use unprecedented amounts of our petroleum reserves in an effort to destroy the living dead with flames (burn baby burn).
Now we're stuck with this zombie apocalypse and--
"Fucking zombies," Lewis Black mutters, coming up beside me with a flamethrower resting on his shoulder and a walkie talkie hanging loosely from his belt. I nod. How either of us has survived this long is questionable... it's not like we were in the best shape to begin with. I'd ask him, but I don't have enough time for a rant on Europeans. The sun is going down, and we have five blocks to go before we reach the underground bunker that was set up shortly after the zombies started outnumbering the living, and we realized we weren't getting out of the city (although, it's really just an old nuclear bomb shelter that wasn't turned into storage or something when they stopped making the public worry about their possible radioactive existence). So, slowly, cautiously, weapons pointed somewhat chaotically at our surroundings, Lewis and I migrate back to the base.
Hopefully, it's been a good day, and no one was turned over to the dark side (there's no way the cookies are worth it). Maybe it was even an excellent day, and someone found food... or supplies... I probably should avoid getting my hopes up, though.
Title: It's A Short Leap From Idea To Madness; Chapter 40: When It All Comes Tumbling Down
Author: kick_back_80s (Larry Wilmore)
Rating: R
A/N: Oh, yeah... there's totally inhuman elements involved with this...
Warnings: ...the undead... see: A/N
Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person). Any mention of 'Comedy Central', 'The Daily Show‘, 'The Colbert Report', 'Root of All Evil', 'Strangers with Candy', 'AC 360', 'Verdict with Dan Abrams', 'Countdown with Keith Olbermann', 'The Late Show with Conan O'Brien', 'MSNBC', 'CNN', 'NBC', any associated entities, or any copyrighted material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976, and is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material.
It's after I throw my last grenade and run through the smoke-filled intersection (breathing through the gas mask that's seen more action than I'm pretty sure its creators ever meant it to) that I realize... I'm pretty sure this is the end of the world, because this has to be when it all comes tumbling down.
It's got to be, at least in terms of my sanity. How else do you explain the fact that every-one's a fucking zombie?! Entire civilizations decapitated in the mass hunt for braaaaains (just like that-- the drawn out "aaaaa." You'd think we would have been wrong about the zombies like we were wrong about everything else, but noooo... The zombies are just like we've always pictured them in B-rated Hollywood movies with lousy stage makeup-- decaying with a single-minded hunt for gray matter). And damn it if I wasn't stuck in New York when the infestation spread to the States (mostly because New York was the first to be hit with the massive outbreak in the States and the first to be closed off from the rest of the world, both major airports shutting down, ports and bridges being closed systematically to trap us here in hopes that the disease wouldn't spread).
Which, THANK YOU, EUROPE! Because of you, European nations, the entire world (at least, my entire world), is now subjected to hiding out with flame throwers (and where the hell is Will Smith with some epic zombie cure when you need him? Is it because they went with the "o hey, I die" ending? WILL SMITH, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME? ...I guess Wyatt will have to do...). And it's not like we weren't already complaining about greenhouse gasses and low oil reservoirs... at least we don't drive much anymore (there's no telling what's hiding in the back seat or trunk of shells of cars). We just use unprecedented amounts of our petroleum reserves in an effort to destroy the living dead with flames (burn baby burn).
Now we're stuck with this zombie apocalypse and--
"Fucking zombies," Lewis Black mutters, coming up beside me with a flamethrower resting on his shoulder and a walkie talkie hanging loosely from his belt. I nod. How either of us has survived this long is questionable... it's not like we were in the best shape to begin with. I'd ask him, but I don't have enough time for a rant on Europeans. The sun is going down, and we have five blocks to go before we reach the underground bunker that was set up shortly after the zombies started outnumbering the living, and we realized we weren't getting out of the city (although, it's really just an old nuclear bomb shelter that wasn't turned into storage or something when they stopped making the public worry about their possible radioactive existence). So, slowly, cautiously, weapons pointed somewhat chaotically at our surroundings, Lewis and I migrate back to the base.
Hopefully, it's been a good day, and no one was turned over to the dark side (there's no way the cookies are worth it). Maybe it was even an excellent day, and someone found food... or supplies... I probably should avoid getting my hopes up, though.