The roof, Saturday afternoon
Priestly had gotten up the energy to head for higher ground, today. He was perched crosslegged on the edge of the roof, his zombie-beating stick on one side of him, his phone on the other, looking out over the school grounds. His theory was that, from here, he could spot any approaching zombie threat and be prepared.
Or just, you know, be further away from it.
It was almost sort of thrilling, wasn't it? Put things in perspective. Why worry about petty image stuff or homework or whether the girl you were crushing on that week would notice your extra spikey hair? There were more important things out there. You could die crossing the street, choking on a sandwich, getting eaten by a zombie. It was . . . life reaffirming.
Or possibly that was just the pot he was smoking while he kept watch.
Hey, you dealt your way, he dealt his.
[ooc: open roof is as always open. Shaun of the Dead is on Comedy Central! EEEEEEEEE.]
Or just, you know, be further away from it.
It was almost sort of thrilling, wasn't it? Put things in perspective. Why worry about petty image stuff or homework or whether the girl you were crushing on that week would notice your extra spikey hair? There were more important things out there. You could die crossing the street, choking on a sandwich, getting eaten by a zombie. It was . . . life reaffirming.
Or possibly that was just the pot he was smoking while he kept watch.
Hey, you dealt your way, he dealt his.
[ooc: open roof is as always open. Shaun of the Dead is on Comedy Central! EEEEEEEEE.]