The Zombie Survival Guide: How To Live Like A King After The Outbreak (12 page)

The third option, well, let’s just say that it’s going to be a bit difficult if you’re not already gay. I personally have never desired a man’s hands to gently finger my butt hole; the thought is actually quite repulsive to me. However, if you
have
gone through life imagining what it’s like to finger your best buddy, then you are gay, and it’s not a problem and it’s not your fault. If you really want to go bang a dude, then go bang a dude, dude.

Or, you can go through the rest of your miserable life wondering why no women want to sleep with your homo ass. If you are stuck in this mode of existence, then my advice is to immediately go to the nearest highway rest stop and jerk off some freaky trucker. Just admit you’re gay, and move on.

Not to offend any homosexuals out there, but if you feel the need to go tanning and dye your hair, then you are gay. Even if you bang the hottest of women, real men do not care about their skin tone or hair style. If you are so insecure that you need to partake in either one of these homoerotic activities, then you are gay. Not the man-on-man variety of gay, but straight man gay – the gayest of all gays. Do the rest of the world a favor and tan your narcissistic self to death.

By contrast you have zombies, who technically don’t procreate at all. They do not even consummate most of the time, though I’ll bet it would be pretty hot if they did... No, there are no candlelit dinners or highly expensive nights out on the town in the never ending race for pussy in the world of the undead. Something about being a brain-obsessed zombie just sucks the sex drive right out of you, I guess…

They do recreate, however, but only through acts of pure, unadulterated violence. Their primal need to spread zombism explodes through unprovoked bloodshed that relies upon sympathetic helpers, drawn into the creature's grasp, or those unable to defend themselves from the massive, rapidly multiplying hordes spreading undeath all across the land.

The only known way for zombism to spread/reproduce itself is through the direct transfer of zombie saliva or blood into the human blood stream. If you or anyone around you is bitten in the head, neck, or trunk regions, then you are sadly destined to become a zombie yourself within about twenty three hours.

However, if you are only bitten on one of your limbs, then there
is
one (albeit unconfirmed) way to potentially stop yourself from turning. Although only a credit card or sexual favors can get you out of a Mexican jail, the one that alcohol likely landed your gringo ass in to begin with,
alcohol
might actually be the only thing that can save you in instances of zombie bite. It has been said that getting hammered drunk provides a good chance of killing the parasite/infection before it reaches your brain and completes your transformation. Just as getting obliterated in Mexico will stave off “Montezuma's revenge” and keep the parasitic bacteria from infecting your bowls, achieving a blood-alcohol content of 0.3 or higher might be your only chance of surviving a zombism infection. Not that you needed more of an excuse to drink or anything, but…

Alcohol, though relatively well-tolerated within the complexities of the human body, tends to wreak havoc when a single-celled organism comes in contact with it. As a result, viruses and germs left swimming in it quickly die.

You will need to get drunk. Not the amateur hour
I am gonna drink some beers and make sexual advances on that fat chick at the end of the bar
drunk. I mean drinking until you try to fight your friends, get your ass beat by your friends for being such a dick, then hugging and making up with your friends only to try to fight them again while winking at the fat girl at the end of the bar.

If you're still animated, you're not drunk enough. You need to devolve your body and brain functions into a near-comatose state; only then will you be intoxicated enough to have any chance of surviving. If you have only puked once or twice, that is not anywhere close to the level of inebriation you’ll need to achieve catharsis of the zombie virus. Drink until you literally think you are going to die. Hopefully you have a good group of friends with you, ones who will excuse your obvious and pathetic designs on their girlfriends and continue feeding you tequila shots until you become a truly worthless pile of shit.

Although you will be incapable of knowing it or anything else at the time, by now you will be quite done. It is only a matter of time now before you wake up in the morning, feeling like you just got run over by a freight train, puking and shitting any remnants of nutrients or parasites left in your body. But, if the alcohol treatment was invoked early enough, at least you will not have joined the ranks of the undead (though it may be hard to tell the difference for a while). Any foreign pathogen in your blood stream will have been destroyed, along with damn near everything else in there, and the only thing that will have reached your brain is the need to apologize profusely to everyone who had the misfortune of running into you the night before.

DO NOT HAVE SEX WITH ZOMBIES!!! Just in case you did not read that first sentence, DO NOT HAVE SEX WITH ZOMBIES!!!

We do not know what causes zombism in each and every case. Although the cause is widely accepted to be some form of blood-borne parasite in most cases, this is not confirmed to be the sole method of transmission. So do not endanger yourself and inadvertently contract zombism through other forms of intimate contact.

Let us face some cold hard facts here. Angie K from down the street did not want to fuck you in high school, and she certainly doesn't want to fuck you now that you’ve made such an awesome success of yourself. Since she is not even Angie anymore – she is a zombie – all she wants to do is devour your brains. Not your
chicken’s
brain, dipshit! She wants to devour your
brain
brain!

Do not, I repeat DO NOT give into the temptation to ride her undead ass like a gazelle, no matter how fresh she still appears to be. But if you absolutely must insist on sampling this forbidden fruit, at least make sure you use protection – and that includes a helmet for
both
your heads!

This all being said, there are some of you, like me, who probably will end up having sexual relations with a zombie at some point before law and order are restored. After all, it could take a long ass time! Beside, telling a lonely man not to have sex with a zombie is like telling high school kids not to have sex with middle school students, simply by throwing a bible at them and hoping that they’re brainwashed to the point where they can resist their primal urges. This is a practice that has been turning white people into serial killers for thousands of years already, and it really needs to stop.

Rather, we should use education as a tool of prevention in the fight to keep zombism from spreading. First of all, if you are completely unable to resist that rotten zombie vag, use a condom. This may spoil half the fun, but if you’d rather not become a zombie yourself, it is probably a good idea. My Dad lied to me when he told me that sex feels the same with or without a condom when I was just a pubescent child. I wouldn’t try doing that to you, faithful reader.

It is possible that compulsive masturbation caused a callus to form on my mushroom tip early on in life, thus making sexual sensitivity impossible through a membrane of latex. Or it is possible that wearing a condom straight sucks, but alas, it is an unfortunate necessity of our times. Either way, wrap that rascal if you’re gonna go trawling for tainted tuna!

The second safety measure one needs to take when endeavoring to fuck a zombie is securing their gnashing, biting head before mounting them. Although transmission of zombism through sexual fluids is unconfirmed, being bitten by a zombie is a proven way spread the plague. Luckily, there are several precautions one can take here.

This first involves securing a football helmet to the head of the creature. Or, as stated in the previous chapter, you can use a kinky fetish gag, depending on how attractive or unattractive you find Brett Favre. Also, using a helmet will help to keep the face of your zombie lover intact, at least, preserving whatever beauty it has left until it eventually rots away on its own.

The second method is rather violent and bloody by comparison, as you will need to remove all of the teeth from your zombie fuck slave’s mouth. You may have already accomplished this during the initial training through punishing blows to the face. If this is the case, then you may just want to leave things as they are, as most of the work has already been done. If not, then get yourself a pair of pliers and a vice grip, strap your baby down to the work bench, and start pulling. You do not need to remove the roots of the teeth, just the part protruding from the gums. If the tooth shatters without removing the root, that’s okay.

Whether you want to employ a helmet or not, removing the teeth has the obvious advantage of opening the gates to oral sex as well. As it turns out, you lose your gag reflex altogether when you die, so…

It should be noted that this amateur oral surgery is also relatively harmless to your zombie. Zombies do not need their teeth at all, actually, as their primary diet is brains, which are about as soft and squishy as the other thing you’re going to put in there anyway.

Now that you know the basic
and
advanced techniques for dealing with all things pertaining to zombies and zombism, you are well on your way to ruling own your personal post-outbreak world, like the true king that you are! Take me for instance: My crew all died on the last beer-run reconnaissance mission, but I managed to escape with loads of alcohol and a husky zombie slave I named Sandy. We are currently holed up together in a somewhat dilapidated mansion on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan, on a hill overlooking the beach.

My days are pretty relaxed for the most part. I taught Sandy how to chop wood, make coffee, and do the dishes, so my life is relatively labor free. On a typical morning, I awake to the smell of Sandy's terribly strong coffee, grab a cup, then go out on the back porch where I disrobe and jack off while Sandy plays with my ass. It's not a bad life, really, except that I failed to follow my own advice, given in the previous chapter, and remove all of Sandy’s teeth... Today, she
bit
me on the ass during our usual morning routine!

I had to smack her around a bit, just to suppress her feeding instincts some, but I wasn't really that mad at her though. I mean, if you play in the mud, you’re gonna get dirty, right? Plus, I kinda needed an excuse to start drinking before noon anyways.

Although I live a king's life, without human companionship I fear that I may be going a little insane. Truthfully, the only real reason I'm writing this book is to help keep myself from losing my mind completely. But seeing as how that prospect grows dimmer and dimmer with each day, I suppose I might as well make this the final chapter.

Sandy is bound in chains and glaring at me from across the room. She's pissed at me because I started drinking thirty minutes after waking up again. She must have seen me pour some brandy into that nasty ass cup of coffee she made.

“What the fuck do you
expect
me to do, Sandy! I
have
to start drinking this early because you fucking bit me again!”