January 10th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive. I am fucking cold but I am still alive. No, I didn’t try out the fireplace. I’m thinking about it though. It is fucking hard to type with gloves on.

Yesterday I got bored and went on a quick scavenging trip. I went to the house on the other side of Home Base. I was about to kick in the door when I saw that it had a Security Alarm Sticker on the door.

Now that is a damn good question. Does the alarm still work if the power is out? Will the last surviving policeman come out to check on an attempted burglary? Most importantly, will the alarm make a shrieking sound that attracts every zombie for a two mile radius?

I know I have said that zombies don’t give a shit for noises, but I really would hate to be wrong this time. I kept thinking about the game Left4Dead, and how when you shoot a car with a car alarm, it summons a huge fuckload of zombies. I don’t want it to be like that, especially when I should know better.

So I skipped the house altogether. Guard-Dog Security should be thrilled. “Guard-Dog Security is so good, looters will skip your house when the world has ended!”

The next house over had no security and even better, an unlocked door. Go me! I was prepared to do a full search of the house when something in the living room stopped me in my tracks. There were three people, hanging from nooses they secured to the ceiling beam. Two women and one guy. They looked older like in their fifties. What was really odd was all their Christmas decorations gave the place a real festive vibe. Fucking weird. It was like finding a mass grave at Hallmarks.

Let me say something right here. These people made a choice and it looks like they did it right. Maybe they debated about it and maybe they cried and had a long talk about it, but these ladies and one guy took a look at the world and said “Fuck it.” I admire that. I almost wish I come to the same conclusion. They controlled the way they went out.

So I am thinking these deep thoughts as I got closer and their eyes opened. Their bodies were still but their jaws started snapping. God damn. Three slobbering heads were trying their best to bit me from their noosed positions.

I threw up. I vomited the delicious roast chicken I had made earlier. It is not that I was throwing up because the zombies were gross. Shit, they looked like people who would come to the bookstore to buy books for their grandkids. They were totally non-threatening. It was just the thought of being suspended like that still trying to eat people. It just made me sick.

I left the living room and searched the rest of the house. It was clear. I could hear the zombies chomping down on nothing. I was tempted to finish them off but fuck, I didn’t want anything to do with them.

The kitchen was filled with stuff I didn’t know what to do with. There were all sorts of grain cereals and a surplus of spoiled vegetables. There were different pastas that I had never heard of. I had no idea what to make of the spices they had.

The freezer was the mother load again. They had fish. They had a dozen different fishes from Whole foods. Oh sweet Baby Jesus, they had salmon, mahi mahi and swordfish. I was never a big fish eater but when you realize this might be the last swordfish you will ever eat? Then it is a cause to celebrate.

There was two cans of caffeine free Diet Coke. Caffeine free? Mother-fuckers! I took the cans anyway. I might drink them just for the taste.

The best thing I found though was a George Foreman grill, which is not a grill and more of a heating press. I was so damn happy to have another cooking option.

So that was it. It was getting dark and I wanted to bail. The zombies never stopped chattering. Their necks must have been broken for their bodies not to move but damn, how does their heads stay alive?

By the way, today’s meal is swordfish fried on the grill. I melted some butter and mixed in some salt and parsley. It felt almost decadent to put butter on the health conscious Foreman grill.