This one's for you, arcfox7!
Last night, I dreamed that my parents' house was under siege by zombies.
Luckily, we seemed either to have something like a replicator that made weapons or we just happened to have a mess of swords and machetes from all sorts of societies, not to mention a healthy supply of shotguns (but only shotguns--weird). I know this because I chose to wield a pair of kodachi on my first sortie out the front door, but I looked longingly at a Scottish broadsword on my way out. (Most bizarre random reference: I tried to explain how cool the kodachi were in terms of this Rurouni Kenshin character. Haven't watched that in nearly a decade!)
My brother chose a katana, and we were joking about how we'd turned on our own heritage in favor of cooler weapons. He mocked my weapons for being too short. Whatever, we ran out the door. The zombies were a threat we keenly felt, but they gave the door a wide berth and didn't rush us. They were also kind of moldy, soft, and squelch-y. They looked more like moist corpses crossed with the Swamp Thing. They barely had any teeth, and even if they did, their soft bones would crumple their jaws inwards before they could break skin.
Despite this, the battle was heated! My brother, arcfox7, turned out to be quite correct (which I'm sure, dream or no, he'll be glad to hear) and the kodachi were too short and not powerful enough (as if!) to really kill these supremely killable zombies. We barely got back inside so I could swap. That's when I realized that arcfox7 had been bitten. I felt so guilty, as if my poor weapon choice were to blame. I was about ready to grab a katana of my own and head out the door to take blinding revenge...
...and woke up. I blame our trip to the Met's Samurai swords/armor exhibit for some of that dream.
Luckily, we seemed either to have something like a replicator that made weapons or we just happened to have a mess of swords and machetes from all sorts of societies, not to mention a healthy supply of shotguns (but only shotguns--weird). I know this because I chose to wield a pair of kodachi on my first sortie out the front door, but I looked longingly at a Scottish broadsword on my way out. (Most bizarre random reference: I tried to explain how cool the kodachi were in terms of this Rurouni Kenshin character. Haven't watched that in nearly a decade!)
My brother chose a katana, and we were joking about how we'd turned on our own heritage in favor of cooler weapons. He mocked my weapons for being too short. Whatever, we ran out the door. The zombies were a threat we keenly felt, but they gave the door a wide berth and didn't rush us. They were also kind of moldy, soft, and squelch-y. They looked more like moist corpses crossed with the Swamp Thing. They barely had any teeth, and even if they did, their soft bones would crumple their jaws inwards before they could break skin.
Despite this, the battle was heated! My brother, arcfox7, turned out to be quite correct (which I'm sure, dream or no, he'll be glad to hear) and the kodachi were too short and not powerful enough (as if!) to really kill these supremely killable zombies. We barely got back inside so I could swap. That's when I realized that arcfox7 had been bitten. I felt so guilty, as if my poor weapon choice were to blame. I was about ready to grab a katana of my own and head out the door to take blinding revenge...
...and woke up. I blame our trip to the Met's Samurai swords/armor exhibit for some of that dream.