February 28th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

This morning I pretty much snapped. Either I was used to the zombie moans or it seemed like they were really quiet. The footsteps were still outside, and someone was still knocking on my outside door. But as for the parade, I had the feeling they were gone.

So that is what was going through my mind when I peeked out the basement windows. I saw three zombies in the lawn but I couldn’t see who was banging my door. I decided to go for it.

I swung the outside door open with a pistol in my hand and six in my pockets. It was fucking Annie. I have never been so glad to see a zombie. If I die, she was going first.

One shot to the head took her down. Two more shots kept her down. They weren’t necessary but it felt good.

The zombies in the lawn saw me. They looked huge but I found out later it was just their winter coats. At first I thought I had some fucking linebackers here.

It didn’t matter. I was like a machine. I took aim, fired, and took aim again. Years of playing Team Fortress like a spaz but when it came time to clean zombies, I was an ice cold assassin. I wish I was this good in videogames.

With the lawn zombies dead, I waited in the doorway. If my gunshots were going to draw zombies, I wanted to know now instead of when I was away from the basement. I waited five minutes and man, that was not easy.

No zombies came to investigate the shots.

I walked around front. There were about a dozen zombies hanging around. Everything was trashed again. All the corpses I had been piling up were pulped by the parade. Fences were knocked over and there was even a tree knocked down. The street was a disaster.

I went to work. Nice and slow, I shot zombies. If I missed with a headshot, I went for the leg. Headshots are easier when they are crawling. They all came for me but that was fine. The closer they got, the easier the shot.

One gun jammed on me but other than that I was cool. I had plenty of guns. When they were all dead, I reloaded and went to the front door.

Those bastards had caved in the door. I was already checking the damage on the frame. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fix it. I wasn’t even mad. It just made me eager to start cleaning.

Shooting zombies in a house is different from the street. They are a lot closer and I always get the feeling one of those fuckers will sneak behind me. They were also packed in there pretty tightly. I barely aimed as much as I shot into the crowd and kept firing till no one was left standing.

Fuck, that was just the living room. Home Base was slammed with the undead fuckers. I had to leave the house twice just to reload. I don’t think I have ever fired my gun that much and it felt great. These bastards were in my home and each one of them deserved a bullet.

So yeah, the zombie parade is gone and Home Base is clear of zombies. I’m sitting here in the basement because it is the only place I know right now with working doors. I’m eating a quick lunch of green peas and cold Pepsi and then I am getting to the real work.

I need a new place to live.

February 27th

This is Jimmy Varn and I think I am going to get through this son of a bitch.

I could be horribly wrong, but the moans seem to be quieter. I think we are near the end of the parade. If it is like last time, it will mean a lot of stragglers to clear out but I am ready for it. I want to shoot something. I want to take charge of my life again.

The noise upstairs hasn’t slowed down. I am guessing I have a shit load of zombies up there till I clear them out. The knocking on the outside door is sporadic. It stops for a few hours and then it picks back up. I am really hoping it is Annie. I swear to God, I am finding an Ipod before the next zombie parade.

I tell you one thing; it stinks like shit down here. I have been using ziplock bags and garbage bags but you can only contain the smell of shit so much. Man what I would not give for a flushing toilet. I am really worried I might be making this place into a toxic zone. I would hate to die of dysentery before any zombies have a chance to kill me.

For fun I keep working out my combat plan. I started to name them, plan Alpha, Beta and Gamma, mostly because I have no idea what the Greek letter for ‘C’ is. I practice them in my head and try to come up with contingencies. I am a fucking mastermind of strategy today.

Really it just comes down to how many shots I fire before I run like Hell.

To keep me occupied, I have been browsing online. There seems to be fewer sites up than last time I checked. Yahoo is completely down and I can’t get anything from BoingBoing. You know things have gone to shit when even Wikipedia is completely down. Before I could at least pull up Star Trek trivia, now it doesn’t load at all.

Federal government websites are down too. Only page I did find was for FEMA and it advised everyone to stay indoors, avoid large crowds and conserve water. It was dated December 26th. Fuck. FEMA isn’t coming to save me anytime soon.

What does interest me is that FEMA has officially announced that they don’t know what is going on. Civilians are advised to sit tight. God damn. That is exactly what I am doing and it isn’t working too well.

You know, if I live through this, I might come up with my own survival FAQ. Too bad I don’t know if anyone is actually reading this.

I’m logging off.

February 26th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

Things are not so peachy today. The door of the basement that goes outside has a zombie knocking on it. I am not sure, but I bet it is that zombie bitch Annie. It sounds familiar. I am keeping deadly still. Well, I turned the generator on so I could let you know what happened. I don’t want you thinking my great plan went to shit. It would have been great except for this new complication.

Fuck. I am really not ready to die. The knocking started about an hour ago. I am hoping the bitch goes away. I am hoping they don’t close off my one exit.

I thought about going upstairs but I can still hear them walking. Shit, I think they got me this time. All I can hope for is that the outside door zombie gets bored and moves on.

Shit, it seems like I have spent the last week deciding how I want to die. I guess being surrounded by dead people gets you thinking that way. I knew the zombie parade would be exhausting mentally, but I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect Annie to come back to fuck me over.

I think I want to live now mostly out of spite. Realizing what Annie and Chuck had in mind really pisses me off. Now I want to live just to beat them. I also really would like the chance to shoot Chuck. If he is a zombie, that would be just bonus.

You know, if I peeked out the window, I could see if it is Annie. I could see how many there are. I could gauge my chances and make a run for it. Of course, last time I looked out the window, Annie saw me and started this shit. If she, or some other zombie sees me, I might have the whole parade trying to break down the door.

I think I will just sit here.

Sitting, sitting and sitting. I never knew zombie apocalypses were so stagnant. Left4Dead 3 should be six hours of waiting in a shelter. Ha, maybe it should be a Sims game. Sim Zombies, you just keep your house intact as you slowly go crazy.

If I could find some programmers, I would have a hell of a lot of ideas for that game. Best thing is, you could play it while waiting out a zombie parade.

Man, I wish I had brought one of the board games down.

Logging off.

February 25th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

Wow, who needs Clive Barker when you have a zombie parade. I read ‘Meat Train’ but it seemed almost quaint. Monsters under the city? Dude, I have monster right above me. One of those fuckers notice the basement door and realize what it is, my ass is grass.

Isolation is doing funny things to my head. I keep checking out the bondage store room. I should avoid all of that crazy shit but I keep checking it out. I can’t look out any of the windows, so I might as well learn how a gimp mask works. It might be important later if Crystal comes back.

I’m kidding. Really.

I think I walk around as much as the zombies do. I pace the basement, looking for a way that I can escape if I have to. I altered the barricade to the outside door so I can move it aside quickly. I also set up some of the bondage rope to use as a net barricade across the upstairs door. There is a gasoline can by the upstairs barricade so I can shoot at it and cause a fire as I escape. That’s the plan at least.

I am not sure when my plans changed from heroic last stand to an escape. Maybe it is my videogame experience. Being in a hopeless situation that had no solution was just too hard to accept. There is a no restart and there is no way to save my game, but deep down I believe there has to be a way out of this shit. I can’t accept that God or Baby Jesus are leaving me here to die in a basement.

So I plan to run. The zombie parade moves left to right but when I saw it last time, they didn’t really break off. If the upstairs zombies find their way down here, I’ll burn them and run. I’ll head into the lawn, run past whatever zombies are there and head at a right angle to the zombie parade. I can jump a fence. I don’t think those zombies can.

Of course, I am betting on the back lawn not being filled with zombies to the point that I can’t run through them. I really wish I had Crystal’s metal bat about now. I’ll make due with this chair leg I have been working on. I got it so sharp that Buffy Summers would have an orgasm looking at it.

I do wish I was smart enough to get a backpack down here. I want to load up on supplies when I run for it. Oh well. I do have a bunch of bondage straps that I have rigged around my belt like a BDSM tool belt. I have three bottles of water, a pouch of snack mix and long knife. I got two guns and a rifle picked out.

Shit, I almost want them to break in. I got a plan.

I’m going to eat now. You never know when it might be my last meal for awhile.

February 24th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am really pissy.

I kept the generator running off and on last night. When I got cold, I turned the space heaters on. I should be rationing the gas more but fuck it. I am pissed. I am tired of being cold.

I keep the guns ready. Every time I turn the generator on, I half want the zombies to notice and invade the basement.

I want Annie in front. I want to kill that bitch first.

I feel all this hatred for her and Chuck. After being alone for so long, it infuriates me that people would look at the apocalypse as a chance to fuck someone over. I keep going back into the room and looking at all that crap. I toy with the idea that maybe Chuck was some sort of secret submissive, but I don’t buy it. There was a reason they kept locking me in my room. They wanted me to get used to the idea.

My sleeping spot is right at the base of the stairs. As soon as they break in, I’ll know.

I am ready for death. It is a weird feeling. Maybe it was Crystal’s betrayal. Maybe it was Chuck and Annie’s perverted storeroom. Maybe I am just fucking sick of hiding. I keep entertaining ideas of how I am going to make my last stand. I am debating setting the gasoline up so they will explode. In videogames, this much gasoline in one place is just dying for an explosion.

I should mention that I haven’t slept much. I fall asleep exhausted but I keep waking up. The zombies are right upstairs and they keep walking. They aren’t quiet up there. It is like being under a major sidewalk. I hear them, and I know they are there at all times. I should sleep but it is so fucking hard when you might wake up to someone gnawing on your head, you know?

Really, I think I am just pissed off at everyone. Where the fuck is the government? CDC is in Atlanta for shit’s sake. You’d think we would hear something. You would think the National Guard would be out looking for people. I am pissed with my coworkers at the bookstore. If they hadn’t of been assholes about letting those poor kids die, I would have stayed with them and not be all alone. I am pissed with Crystal. If she wanted to stay a nomad, I would have fucking gone with her.

God damn all of you. I am tired of sitting in a basement waiting to die. I can’t do it all by myself. Shit, I already purify water, gather food and get gas out of gas stations. I shouldn’t have to die by myself too.

February 23rd

This is Jimmy Varn, and I have no idea why I am still alive.

The zombies keep walking upstairs. I hear things falling over. I imagine they are making a big ass mess of the place. I can’t be sure, but I am betting there are more of them than there was last night. How many zombies can cram into a house? 20? 30? 100?

I though the parade was going to confine me to Home Base. I had no idea it was going to confine me to the basement indefinitely. I’m too afraid to even peek out the basement windows to see how the parade is doing. The last thing I want to do is attract the attention of another zombie.

Here is the really freaky thing. So I had to move a lot of shit around to barricade myself. Well, I moved some boxes and found a fucking door. Remember how I said the basement seemed smaller than it should be? Well it turns out there was a whole other room hidden here.

At first I was excited. I thought it might hold supplies. Fuck, it does, but not anything I could use. Not unless I really wanted to punish Crystal the next time I see her.

The room had all sorts of bondage gear. All of it still in the original packaging like they had never been opened. There was a shit load of chains, a box of leather cuffs and more anal plugs than I ever wanted to see. There were a couple of leather masks and a damn doggy cage big enough for a man to sleep in it. The room was jammed with it. The only thing missing was a person to use them on.

At first I thought it belonged to the owners of the house. The pictures of the couple made them look like nice guys, but you never know what people get up to in the bedroom. But I realized that there was too much of the shit. It was all fresh, like it had been just stolen from a sex store. No one had ever used this stuff.

I realized that these must belong to Chuck and Annie. I also realize that all of this stuff looks like it was made for men.

I think those fuckers meant these things for me. It certainly explains why they were so uncomfortable with me. It also explains why they treated me like a fucking pet.

God damn. The only people willing to help me just wanted to rape my ass. Nice folks.

And now the bitch half of the rape couple is upstairs as a zombie, trying to figure out where her lunch went.

You know, I just want to live through this so I can shoot her ass myself.

Logging off.

February 22nd

This is Jimmy Varn, and I may not be alive for much longer.

Late last night, I heard a hard pounding on the door upstairs. It was a fierce knock, like someone desperate. My first thought was of Crystal. I went upstairs, armed, and peeked out the window.

It was fucking Annie. Remember her? The strange girlfriend of Chuck? It was her, except half her hair was gone and her right side was soaked in blood. She was a fucking zombie.

And she saw me. Man, it was dark with only the moonlight but I could tell it was her and she could tell it was me. She started to really knock on the door then, and worse, she did this freaky moan.

That moan echoed among the other zombies in the parade.

Fuck, my fingers are shaking just thinking about it.

So all these other zombies in the parade decide to come look. Now I have zombies pressing at the windows. I have zombies pressing against the door. Now a lot more fists are pounding, knocking and hammering away.

I thought about shooting through the door. Like maybe if I kill Annie, the others will go away. In Left4Dead it is an easy thing to do. One good rifle shot and it would nail her.

I ran instead. I headed for the basement and locked the door. I barricaded it with everything I had. The whole staircase is full of shit now. I barricaded the door leading outside too. I got just as much shit there now.

I’m buried inside here.

I heard the door break. Upstairs I hear them walking around. Fuck, I thought listening to them moan and stomp outside was bed. Hearing them right above me is fucking awful.

Yet, they haven’t made it to the door. Hard to tell considering how much shit I have between us, but I don’t think they have tried to open the basement door. Maybe I can outlast them.

So I fired up the generator one last time. I need to let people know how I died. It was Annie, ironically one of the people who first introduced me to Home Base, and now she had come back. I bet she had joined the parade, saw Home Base, and remembered it. I bet she wants it back.

I’m curious if the generator will make them want to come down here. Crazy huh? Part of me wants to see if this lures them. If I am going to die, let’s do it now. Come kill me, mother-fuckers!

They don’t seem to notice. I am going to eat my last can of beef stew then. If you don’t hear from me, you’ll know why.

February 21st

This is Jimmy Varn and I am freezing my ass off.

The zombie parade arrived right after dinner last night. Slow ass mother fuckers. The moans got louder and louder till I thought my chest was vibrating from the volume. Then a steady stream of zombies went by the windows and I knew they were here.

Fuck, they are thick this time. I mean, they were thick last time but they seem to be really packed in this time. There are hundreds of them, pushing and shoving to get ahead of each other. Quite a few of them look fucked up. They are missing arms, or splattered in blood or have knives stuck in them. I am not sure if these wounds were what killed them, or injuries they have picked up in the afterlife.

They pressed against the house. There are so many that they fill the street and push into the lawns. I saw some of them walking in the back yard too. It is a solid mass of zombies and the street is the easiest way for them to go, but they are not sticking to it.

I think about the Screamers, and I wonder what they did wrong to gain the attention of the parade. I haven’t thought about it much since that time but I am thinking about it now. If I could figure it out, it might save my life now.

It is cold. I know I say that a lot but the lack of a fireplace is really hurting. I am going to go back to heating up bricks in my toaster over for warmth. I accidentally came across another warming method. For pissing, I have been filling up empty water bottles that are too small to really hold purified water. The bottles are really warm once they are filled with fresh piss. I have been sticking the piss bottles into my sleeping bag while I stay bundled up.

It isn’t pretty but damn if it doesn’t work.

Reading has been harder than I thought. I had forgotten how loud the moans are. It is like having zombies right here inside the basement. It is deafening. I thought about sticking something in my ears to plug the noise, but the thought of voluntarily deafening myself seemed foolish. I might need to hear something. Like if there are any more survivors like the Screamers.

Not that I would know what to do if I did hear survivors. I can’t kill a thousand zombies. I have considered lighting some gasoline and throwing it into the parade, but somehow I think I would just end up with a parade of unloving bastards on fire. Not like there is a fire department in case if does get out of hand.

I’m logging off. A rescue would be awesome right about now.

February 20th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am stubbornly alive.

The Zombie Parade didn’t show up last night but I can hear them. They are close. Already I am seeing a dozen zombies shambling along. I don’t know what these guys are doing so far ahead of the parade. Are they leaders? Is the parade following these jackasses?

One of the zombies was a naked woman. She had long blonde hair, well, what was left of hair. I wondered if she was a stripper. I have to tell you, undead naked women look like Hell, they don’t look like Jenna Jameson.

Well, maybe Jenna Jameson after all her plastic surgery.

I am a little buzzed. I have been drinking wine coolers this morning to keep from freaking out. I had to stop boiling water and that was upsetting. Boiling water made me feel like I was accomplishing something.

The shades are all closed and windows are locked. I brought down every blanket I could find down to the basement. Last time the parade was here, I didn’t have the space heaters I have now. It might eat up more electricity but I don’t want to freeze to death.

The generator is the big question. Last time, they didn’t hear it. If I was smart, I would leave it off during the parade. No sense taking chances, right? The thing is, if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to blog. If I stop blogging, people might think I am dead and not come look for me. If I stop blogging, I might as well be dead. This blog gives me structure in my day. If I didn’t blog at noon, I would sit around and wait to die.

I wish the fuckers would hurry up and get here.

I’m treating myself to a lunch Crystal showed me. Basically you drown Spam in cream of mushroom soup and it doesn’t taste much like Spam at all. Crystal, if you are out there, I am almost willing to forgive you stealing the bike for this recipe.

I have some Clive Barker books that I have been setting aside for this. I plan to spend most of my time reading. There is a little light that comes through the windows. I thought about reading Laymon, he has a Beast series that looks interesting but I don’t know. ‘Island’ gave me such a head trip that I doubt I could survive that during again, not during a parade.

I am temped to run all the way back to the bookstore and grab some more to read. Ha, I should put together an apocalypse reading list. Books that won’t teach you shit, but will keep you from thinking about all the damn undead outside.

My lunch is done. Time to go. See you tomorrow.

February 19th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

So I found some paint yesterday. It was red, which I sort of feel is a terribly unfortunate color. It looks like bright blood. Sigh. I am sure it looked great in someone’s bedroom but not so much on a roof.

Two zombies were out on the street this morning and I shot them both. It is getting hard to walk around the street with all the bodies. Not that it is going to matter tomorrow, but I’m getting to that.

I got a ladder and climbed the roof. I painted in big giant letters, ‘ALIVE’ even though I nearly slipped twice. Funny how I was never fond of height but I got over it when it came time to paint a rescue message.

It was from on the roof that I saw them. Another god damn mother fucking cock sucking zombie parade. They were coming from the same direction that the last zombie parade was heading. It might be the same damn parade for all I know. It was heading here, and I am guessing it might show up sometime tonight.

I can already hear their moans. Sound travels in an empty city.

Fuck, I hope Crystal doesn’t get caught in that shit.

I’m getting ready. I put out the fire in the fireplace which really sucks. I’m moving the food and water into the basement. I’m moving the guns too. I scavenged a lot of garbage bags and bottles since I can’t shit outside. I really don’t want to get into details on that.

Fuck, I say I am getting ready but I can’t get past this sense of depression. The last zombie parade lasted for days. The idea of being trapped in Home Base and not being able to get out really upsets me. That will be a week that no one could rescue me. It is a week that Crystal won’t be coming back. It will be a week where I am not going to fucking find any chocolate chip cookies.

I got shit to do.

February 18th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

Man, those gas pumps were a bitch. They wouldn’t work without electricity so I did some poking around. I thought that behind the counter I would find some sort of secret button to press to let the gas flow. I fucking wish.

I found where the gas trucks pump the gas into the underground storage. After fucking round with the latch mechanism, I finally managed to pry that lid off. At one point I had to search the quickie mart for the damn manual, but I got the fucker off. I felt proud of myself.

It would have been fun if it wasn’t for the fucking zombies. Over the course of a couple of hours, four zombies came stumbling by. I really hated firing a gun at a gas station but I didn’t want to fuck around with hand to hand. It bothered me though that so many wandering zombies came by the same place.

I wonder if it is a ‘Dawn of the Dead’ thing. In that movie, zombies came by the hundreds to the abandoned mall because it was important to them in life. Maybe this shitty quickie mart was important to a bunch of snack chomping zombies. I don’t know. It seemed like a lot of traffic for one morning.

I used some gas containers I scavenged from the store to load up on gas and wheelbarrowed them home. I tried to take frequent breaks so I wouldn’t hurt my back again. I am not sure if I am a wimp or if I really messed it up digging those graves, but my back gets sore real easily now.

There was no sign of Crystal anywhere. I guess I didn’t really expect to see her, but I kept an eye out.

There were three zombies on the street on the way home. One of them was so slow and degraded I simply out walked him. One of his legs was really stiff. I wondered if it was a prosthetic. He followed me for awhile but then got distracted by a tipped over mailbox.

The other two zombies I shot with my pistols. I tried getting a little fancy and carried a gun in each hand, Left4Dead style. Yeah that shit didn’t work. My aim was horrible. Holy shit, I need that second hand to hold a pistol steady. After wasting some bullets, I put my left hand gun down and plugged the poor target practice zombie.

Anyway, I got a shitload of gasoline in the basement. I am not sure if it is safe to have that much gasoline in one place but where else am I going to store it?

This afternoon, I am going to search the neighborhood for some paint. Right now I have a delicious lunch of pork and beans that I had been saving.

February 17th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive. And hopefully a little less whiney.

I woke up this morning and I don’t know; but I just had felt I had my shit together. I mean, I have a fireplace; I have more guns than I know what to do with and I got lots of canned food. It might sound odd, but I felt proud this morning. I realized that Crystal did a number on me and stole my shit because I had shit to steal.

I got up and gathered the water from all the other houses with gutters. We had set up six receivers and all of them were full. I emptied them into the big barrel and brought it inside. It is a nice large amount of water and I am pretty pleased. I’m using a fishtank net to strain the larger bits of crap off the water and I am boiling the rest.

I replaced the water containers back at the gutters. If it rains again, I hope to get another large load.

This afternoon I plan to go on the roof and try to spray paint a message. I was thinking of something like ‘Survivor’, but that is a long ass word. I might just paint ‘Help’. I haven’t decided. I just want to put something there. I haven’t seen any helicopters or planes but fuck, if one goes by I don’t want it to pass me.

The thing about Crystal is that she hurt me bad, but she made me realize how badly I have to find people. I can’t just wait for another person to stumble onto me and take my shit. I need to find these people. I need to stay alive and find help. I don’t want to end up like Crystal, living day to day. I have to have a plan. I have to believe I am working toward something.

Which means I need to do a lot more gas siphoning. I am running low again. I was thinking about the quickie mart and the gas pumps. I am not sure if the pumps are running but there has to be a way to get inside them. If I can fill up a wheelbarrow full of gas, I can really build up a stockpile.

I also need to find another bike. Maybe I will chain it up in my house next time instead of just leaving it in the hallway.

I caught myself looking for Crystal when I am outside. I want some sort of explanation. Fuck her. She looted my company like I loot houses for canned food.

Logging off to eat lima beans.

February 16th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

Wow, it has been hard. I thought the end of the world was hard. Crystal leaving has been devastating. My appetite is gone which I guess will help save on food. I have no energy and spent most of my night playing games on the DS.

I just don’t give a fuck. All the sex I had with her seems like a dream. The smell of her in house is like a phantom. Granted, that smell was mostly rather stinky, but it was a new smell and I appreciated it.

The water barrels need collecting. Well, only one barrel but the other gutters feed into buckets and large pots. I got one of them today. I have been slowly boiling it clean all morning but I am in so sort of hurry. It is mostly an excuse to sit in front of the fireplace.

I think about kissing her. How hard she would kiss me so that my lip would bruise. I miss that. Numb lips meant I was alive.

I feel dead. I feel hopeless and abandoned. There is no rescue and there is no one commenting on my blog and no one gives a fuck, and when someone does give a fuck, she leaves.

I don’t know. I hurt. I want some chocolate chip cookies but they were stolen. I miss her.

No, maybe I don’t miss Crystal. I miss having someone here. Ok, I miss fucking Crystal, that was awesome. After being alone for so long, sex was like Christmas. But as for missing Crystal specifically, I don’t know. I barely knew her, and just having her here was a reminder that other people exist. The only company I have is zombies and porn magazines.

I am tempted to really go looking for survivors. I’m talking big banners and maybe a bonfire. It might attract zombies but I have to find other survivors. I have to make human contact again. I’ve missed and after having Crystal here for two days, I don’t know how I can live without it again.

Not today though. Today I just want to curl up and watch water boil.

It occurred to me that Crystal came right before Valentine’s Day. I wonder if that was deliberate. I wonder if she just didn’t want to be alone on Valentine’s Day so she hooked up with me. I feel a little used.

I wish she would come back.

February 15th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am alone.

I woke up this morning and Crystal was gone. At first I thought she was outside, using the area I had set aside as the latrine. I checked out the windows and she wasn’t there. I called out to her and searched the whole house. My heart was pounding. Was she dead?

That was when I started to realize some things were missing. Quite a few bottles of water were missing, as well as most of the cans of spaghetti and beef stew. She also took my only fucking can opener so I am not sure what I am going to do about that. One of the smaller coats is gone, as well as some of the toilet paper.

Crystal also took all of the chocolate chip cookies and that is when I started to cry.

Once I got that out of my system, I went to get the bike so I could find her. She took that too. God damn. That bike was the second best thing to happen to me, and she took it. There was no way I could catch up to her.

Why did she leave? I have spent all morning thinking about it. Did I offend her? We had sex last night and I thought it was pretty fantastic. Did I do something wrong?

Did I bother her with all my plans? Did she think I was too bossy?

Fuck, why didn’t she just tell me instead of running off? I would have done anything she wanted. I would have agreed to anything. I only knew her for two days but having her around had made me so happy. Just having someone to talk to was fantastic.

The stealing hurts. I would have given her the stuff. Well, maybe not the cookies but I would have given her more of everything. I sure as fuck would have insisted she learned how to use a gun. She might have stolen some things that I haven’t discovered yet, but the fact that she took anything hurts. I worked hard for all of this shit. It was mine to give her.

I do wonder about all the help she gave me. She worked on those rain gutter barrels longer than I was willing to. Maybe she knew she was leaving soon and wanted to help me as much as she could. Fuck, did she plan to leave me all along?

It hurts that she didn’t even tell me. It hurts that she didn’t say goodbye. It hurts that she left.

How awful a guy must I be if a girl is willing to go out into zombie world rather than stay with me?

Fuck.

February 14th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am glad to be fucking alive.

I am also glad to be fucking but that is another matter.

Crystal and I have been working hard. The rain is still coming and we are still collecting water. She’s been helping me collect water from other hourse rain gutters. I cover her with my guns while she sets it up. Hot damn it is nice to work with a partner.

I explained my plan to loot the neighborhood. Essentially I will scout with my bike and then we will go together with the wheelbarrow. I worked out a schedule that she didn’t really add any input to. I guess she is so used to being a nomad that she isn’t sure how to do it systematically.

You know, I ask her a lot about how she survived. It just seems so incredible. She just carries her backpack with her. No canteen, no sleeping bag and no weapon other than her bat. It just seems insane. She managed to survive by staying light I guess.

Crystal also told me about the zombie parade. She says in downtown Atlanta it is even worse. She saw two parades cross at an intersection and they kept going. Some broke off from their original parade and joined the new one. She said she was hiding in a high rise apartment when it happened and was stuck for two weeks.

I asked her about downtown. I mean, how the fuck was she able to sleep in an apartment knowing it had to be full of zombies? Crystal just shrugs it off.

“Gotta sleep somewhere,” she says.

Fuck, she has more balls than me.

She says she hasn’t tried to get a car. Most streets are too jammed with debris, bodies or other cars for any sort of driving. Crystal has seen a lot of car crashes, smoldering wrecks and shattered glass on the streets are a good deterrent from getting your own car.

I ask her if she has seen the military, or anything from the government. She just laughs at me like I am naïve. Maybe I am.

I tried bringing up the future and Crystal got real uncomfortable. I asked her if she thought we would get rescued, or if civilization will return. She actually looked angry with me. I thought she was going to say something but she just shook her head. Then she kissed me and we made love so I didn’t bring it up again.

I asked if she wanted to blog and she declined. I guess she’s shy.

I’m off to eat. Crystal is making something with Spam she swears I will like. We’ll see.

February 13th

This is Jimmy Varn and I got fucking laid.

Thank you sweet baby Jesus with your diapers full of poo. I am so fucking glad to not be alone anymore. I am so fucking glad to have someone to talk to. I am so fucking glad to have gotten some twice last night.

Last night there was a knock at the door. I freaked a little. I thought it was a zombie and grabbed two pistols. I looked out the window and I saw someone standing there, shivering in the rain.

I could tell it was a she right away. Straight black hair that came right down to her shoulders. Her jeans were tight against her very feminine bottom. Her arms were crossed over her chest but damn, I knew boobs when I saw them. It was her face that cinched it. She is so beautiful, with dark rich brown skin.

And best of all, she was alive.

I opened the door and she stood there, looking so pitiful.

Her name is Crystal and she is alive. Hot damn.

As soon as she got in she wanted to eat. I fed her. I felt fucking proud. I had such variety she seemed taken back. She let me pick something even though I told her to have whatever she wanted. I made her something fancy. That is, I made her beef stew and I spiced the hell out of it.

She ate three cans. Damn, she was starving.

I asked her many questions. She had been hiding from house to house. She stayed on the move and used up resources as she came across them. Not a bad idea I guess. She was searching for a new home when she saw the smoke from my fireplace yesterday. Crystal said she had been searching the neighborhood for me when she saw the lights.

God damn, I still can’t believe it. Another survivor. She didn’t have a gun and wouldn’t take one when I offered it. She had been using a metal bat to cripple the zombie in the leg. I feel dumb for not noticing the bat when she was at my door. She set it against the wall out of my line of sight. I guess she was being careful.

Crystal had seen some survivors. They carried guns and looked dangerous to her. Fuck, I guess we all look dangerous. She said she didn’t trust them.

But she trusts me.

I got her fed and gave her some of my hard earned purified water so she could sponge bath herself. I went down to the basement so she could work with the fireplace. I was a perfect gentleman. Man, I wished I had been smart enough o hide all the porn I had upstairs.

That night I made a bed for her on the couch. I took the sleeping bag in front of the fire. I wished her good night. I was in fucking heaven having someone else to talk to.

About an hour later she came to my sleeping bag. We didn’t say anything. We had sex, twice. I hate to get all gushy, but it was like a romance movie. I have never wanted to touch someone so badly in my life. The feel of her skin, the smell of her dirty hair and the feeling of her lips was so damn special. We are alive and we are together.

I told her about the blog. She says she is thinking about posting. We’re off to have lunch now. Nice to have someone else cook for a change.

February 12th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still kicking.

It has been raining hard since last night. It is a cold Atlanta rain and I want nothing to do with it. I am staying inside and keeping warm. I moved the computer upstairs and snaked an extension cord up here so I can type by the fireplace. It is too fucking cold for the basement.

The rain has been non-stop so I have been trying hard to collect rainwater. I got every empty bottle outside on the porch trying to collect it. I was watching the water drain out of the gutter across the street and I got a bright idea. I moved my barrel over to the rain gutter and tore it open. I got it feeding straight into the barrel and it is quite a large volume. The water is dirty as shit but fuck, its water.

As much as I want to stay at Home Base and stay dry, I ended up getting drenched as I set up the water barrel.

I got really crazy and actually went outside to wash. I took some soap and stripped down. I kept the gun with me and washed as best I cold. It was so fucking cold that my balls receded into my stomach but I stayed out there till I was clean. Fuck, I even washed my hair.

I came back in and shivered a lot. When I dried out, I took all my dishes outside in a wash tub. I am going to catch goddamn pneumonia doing this but let me tell you, my ass is going to be clean and so are my dishes.

I think I am having both cans of chicken soup today to fight off the cold.

Little Joe is still out in the rain, pushing his toys. Crazy fucker.

I saw a zombie shambling in the rain this morning. I took it down with only two shots. I thought the rain would mess with my aim but it was nothing. Visibility was shit but bullets still go where you put them in the rain. These things are good to know.

You know, for a day off I have been fucking busy.

Time to check on the water barrel. I’ll see you tomorrow.

February 11th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive even if my back isn’t.

Damn, who knew pushing a wheelbarrow back and forth would fuck my back up so much? I took today off and have been trying to take it easy.

I have been thinking a lot about my water. It is really hard to clean dishes without running water. I have been cooking a lot of meals in the can they came in, but I can’t do that with everything. I have tried collecting rainwater but damn, after a good rain, I barely get any water. I am starting to understand why they measure rain in inches.

There were a bunch of plastic silverware at the quickie mart but that won’t last forever. I have a lot of bottled water and I estimate that I could do a full load of dishes with just two bottles, but man, it seems like a waste. For that matter, I need to wash myself.

The fact is I need to use some of my precious water just to clean what I have and myself. I keep trying to think around it but I am coming up with nothing. I haven’t gotten sick yet but I think it is a matter of time. I need to do some dishes.

I can’t believe I am in a zombie apocalypse and I am obsessed with cleaning my dishes.

Let me tell you the weird thing that happened to me today. I was looking out the window and I saw Little Joe. The kid zombie is still in my neighborhood and I don’t think he is ever going to leave. But get this, today I saw him sitting down with some toys.

Where the fuck did he gets toys?

I got out the rifle with the scope so I could check him out better. He was playing with G.I. Joes, which was creepy. I don’t know where he found them, but he was sitting there with action figures, two jeeps and a plane. I don’t remember seeing them in the houses nearby but then again, I wasn’t looking for toys.

He wasn’t really playing either. He just sat there, pushing them around. Sometimes he would bite on them and tear off a limb. It was fucking creepy. He wasn’t playing, he was trying to play.

I watched him for two hours. He kept pushing them around.

Fucking weird. I’m going to log off and eat some more beefaroni. I usually rotate my foods more but damn, that was good yesterday. I never liked beefaroni that much before but yesterday it was awesome.

I need to get rescued.

February 10th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

The quickie mart was interesting. Which is a nice way of saying it was a total fucking disappointment. I half expected a treasure trove of goodies. It was far from that.

I took the wheel barrow instead of the bike. It took me nearly an hour just to get there.

I checked the place thoroughly. I wasn’t going to let any zombies get the jump on me. I found one behind the counter. He was sitting on a stool staring into space. It had a gunshot blast and blood on its chest, and I am thinking that is how it died. Some bastard shot him while he was still alive. I shot him in the head and ended his existence.

In the back, I found someone had been living ion the freezer area. There were two blankets laid out like makeshift beds. There was a shit load of empty beer bottles. Potato chip bags littered the floor and a box of frozen hotdogs was rotting. Whoever stayed here left a mess. I didn’t see any blood or bodies, so I am guessing they moved on.

I wonder if they were the ones who killed the clerk. If so, I didn’t want to be meeting them.

The store was empty in weird ways. All the cigarettes were taken, and I mean all of them. It made me laugh. Hopefully the murderous bastards will die of lung cancer before I meet them.

The Coke was gone too, but the Pepsi products were untouched. Mother fuckers. Even in an apocalypse, Georgians will leave behind the Pepsi. I grabbed as many Pepsi’s as I could but I wasn’t happy about it. All the bottled water was there which I was grateful for. I hate to be the dumb bastards who are going to get dehydrated.

All of the candy was gone but they left behind the microwavable spaghetti and soup cups. Fuck, food is food. I would have liked more sweets but I was more worried about protein. The chips were all gone but they didn’t touch the beef jerkey. Worse looters ever.

I was not surprised when most of the porn was taken too. What did surprise me is that they left behind the magazines with black women. This is when I am glad for racists fucks. After reading all those Leg magazines, I was happy for some porn with more tits.

You know if it is a shitty day when I am most pleased about the porn I found. I don’t know what I was expecting. I guess more stuff. The fact that someone had already looted the place really put me in a bad mood. It made me realize that there is a countdown for how long it will be till everything worth having gets looted.

What really bothers me is that dead counter clerk. I have kept wishing to meet other survivors but now I am not so sure. The odds of them being another guy like me is less than meeting another racist asshole like Chuck.

Took me awhile to bring it all back yesterday. It got dark so I didn’t go back. I got the rest of it this morning. I took a lot of stuff I didn’t really want but I guess every bit helps. I took all the paper I could find, magazines, books, and even the maps. I took anything edible which meant I even took the fucking Spam. Oh man, I am saving the Spam for when I have nothing else to eat.

I also wiped out anything medicinal they have. I am covered from colds, to sinuses to PMS.

I am logging off and going to eat some of the beefaroni I brought back.

February 9th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

This morning I did a more systematic search with the bike. It is hard to carry anything on it but the extra speed helps me get down the streets in a hurry. I wanted to explore my neighborhood and see what I could find. Mostly I was hoping to find survivors.

Zombies are easy to avoid on a bike. They move so fucking slow. It doesn’t stop them from trying. I saw four of the fuckers behind me at one point. Is this how a zombie parade gets started? Before I returned to Home Base, I made sure to circle a block until I lost them all.

It is fucked up to ride down a quiet neighborhood. There is just no sound. No traffic or kids yelling to fill the silence. I started to shout, trying to get the attention of anyone alive.

Big mistake. I heard a door fall down from a house near me. Out came two zombies, one thin looking guy and one very fat woman. I stared at them, wondering if they were a married couple.

I was daydreaming about them so much; I didn’t see the three zombies that were coming out of some bushes. They looked bloody like they had been eating. They were so sudden that I freaked and banged in to a parker car.

For one brief moment, I looked at the paint gash I had left on the car and worried about paying the owner. I don’t know what the fuck was wrong with me this morning, but I was just not thinking straight. I had zombies coming at me slowly from two sides and I should have just started pedaling right there and gotten away.

Instead, I stayed and shot at them. I took aim at the three zombies first because they were bunched together. I prefer shooting into a crowd cause you always hit something. I crippled two of them to crawling and headshot the other one.

The other two zombies were still a good distance away but I stayed around and shot them too. This time I went solely for head shots. I emptied one pistol to kill the fat lady and had to use the other to finish the thin guy.

All in all, I wasted thirty minutes and a lot of ammo to kill five zombies that weren’t much of a threat. I started to feel a little guilty but not much. I was shaking a little. My body was pumped. I rode away and kept exploring.

You know, it isn’t till now that I realized why I killed them. I was bored. That sort of shit is going to kill me.

I did find a quickie mart. That snapped me out of my daydreaming. It was getting close to noon, so I decided to come back here and eat lunch first. Now that I found the place, I knew it wasn’t going anywhere. I also wanted to get my head on straight.

Hell, I also wanted to bring more ammo.

My beef stew is done. See you tomorrow.

February 8th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

Even better, I found a ten speed bicycle yesterday. It was in the back yard of a house; chained up of course. One pistol shot took care of that. I am feeling like a real survivor now when I use a gun as a lockpick.

There was a bicycle pump sitting right next to it and I grabbed it too. It had been ages since I rode a bike but it felt nice to be able to coast down the street. I drove it back to Home Base and then walked back to retrieve my wheelbarrow.

It is hard to carry anything on it but for the first time I feel like I have some real mobility. All last night I kept planning what I was going to explore this morning. I kept thinking about rigging up some sort of basket or maybe a cart. My plans were very systematic and thorough. I was going to map out a square mile around me.

Shit, as soon as I got on that bicycle this morning, I just rode. I carried a backpack and four pistols. I picked a direction and rode down the street. I forgot about looting and just felt the wind in my face and the glorious feeling of speed.

It is really weird. The trip itself was pretty depressing. I came across so much dried blood, splattered on the roads. There were a few car crashes where I could see that bodies had been pulled out of cars. I saw too many damn dead children, eaten almost entirely. It was a fucking slaughterhouse but I was pretty upbeat because I was out of the house and riding something other than my own two legs.

I did stop at one house. Someone had spray painted the word ‘HELP” in big white letters. The house itself had the front door open and one of the windows was smashed in. I knew better than to stop and look but I stopped anyway. It was obvious that zombies had killed whatever survived here, but there was that chance, you know?

The house was another stockpile. Canned food was stacked in the living room in a very familiar manner. A generator sat in the living room, completely emptied of gas. There were four space heaters plugged up to it and I wondered how much gas they burned just to stay warm.

The kitchen was horrific. Body parts lay on the floor. There weren’t enough bits to make a third of a corpse. Whoever lived in this house died in the kitchen. Even more fucked up was a loaded shotgun sitting on the counter. Fuck, they died in the same room as their gun.

I checked the canned food and found that a shitload of chunky soup. Man, I have never been so grateful to see vegetable beef soup. Canned meat was something I could ration and not have to eat before it went bad. They were big ass cans, but I stuffed them into my backpack. I would have to come back for the rest later.

The rest of the house was pretty bare. There was no bottled water so I am guessing they were drinking tap water. There were plenty of cigarette packages which made me laugh. At least I don’t a nicotine habit to worry about during the apocalypse. No books, magazines, games or anything to keep themselves entertained. What the fuck were they doing? Last week I snatched a Golf magazine from a house just to have something to read. I was starting to wonder that this survivor might have been a terribly boring person.

Having said, I sure wish they were alive. I would kill to have someone to talk to.

I am going to finish my soup lunch and get back on the bike. I want to do some more riding while the sun is out.

February 7th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

Things got a bit exciting this morning. It must be the adrenaline because I am upbeat after nearly getting killed today.

I was pushing my wheelbarrow up the street, looking for more houses to loot. I ran across one zombie and he was so far down the street, that I decided to use my rifle. I balanced it on the wheelbarrow and lined my shot.

BAM! One shot, one kill. I have turned into a damn Sniper after all.

I was still congratulating myself when a dozen zombies came out of a house. What the Hell they were doing there I didn’t know yet. I’m glad I didn’t because I would have lost my nerve.

The bizarre thing was that all of them were wearing police uniforms. I must have stared at them for a good three seconds as I thought they were actual police come to rescue me. I studied their lurching movements, hoping that maybe they were just acting.

The horrible moans convinced me that they were zombies.

Still, it was very hard to open fire on something wearing a police uniform. My first few shots missed. I was shaking. I hope it was because there were a dozen of them. I mean, that is a shitload of zombies.

I stopped aiming for heads and went for legs. Legs are remarkably easy to hit. Sometimes it would take two or three shits to shatter a bone but it was better than missing head shots. Also, when you shoot into a crowd of zombies, you are going to hit something.

I took down three of them when one of the zombies did something terrifying. He pulled out his gun. He pointed it at me and I ran like a coward behind a parked car. He didn’t fire but fuck, I was scared. The other zombies pulled out their guns and I nearly ran back to Home Base right there.

They didn’t fire though. Whatever part of their dead brains that remembered guns couldn’t follow through. Maybe zombie fingers suck at pulling triggers, I don’t know. I was just grateful that shooting zombies were not a new problem.

Using the car for balance, I took better aim and started hitting skulls. My rifle ran out of bullets and switched to my pistol. I actually did better with the pistol so I should remember that for latter. When my first pistol ran out, I finished the last two off with my second pistol.

It sounds boring when I type it that way but fuck, my heart was pounding. It is not like a game where you can hit reset when you lose. Every miss physically hurts because I realize that might have been the bullet that stopped a zombie from killing me. Even when I am winning and they never come close to me, it is scarier than you can imagine.

I checked inside the house they came out of. They had broken in to eat some dogs. It was fucked up. How the dogs were able to stay alive is a miracle but all that was left now was corpses and shit. There was slit open bags of dog food every where. I have no fucking idea what the dogs were doing for water. The place stunk of dog shit and piss. I had to leave, it stunk too bad and dead dogs were the last thing I wanted to see

I have to say, the fact that three dogs without thumbs could live that long made me feel like I could do fucking anything. I do wonder about their owners. How can leaving three dogs locked in a house be considered a good idea? Those poor damn dogs.

The police zombies had guns. Fuck, I gathered shit for food this morning but I have a hell of a lot more guns and ammo.

February 6th

I am Jimmy Varn and what do you know? I am still alive.

It was raining lightly this morning so I went back to grave digging. Wet ground was a lot easier to move around. I dropped what was left of Screamer’s body into the grave and covered it up. It might have been stupid to do it with my back sore but I had to. She was a stranger but she was just like me. She was just trying to live.

I buried her and said good luck to her spirit.

I went back to looting the houses. I came across two zombies in the street. They looked pathetic. I think they were both women but it can be hard to tell. They looked soaked and miserable. Both of them wore thick coats that I was tempted to steal if it wasn’t for the fact that they had blood soaked into them.

Took me five shots to get them. I need to work on my aim.

Freezer meat is getting rarer. I found some pork chops that frankly look a little freezer burned but I am going to try them. There have been way too many frozen dinners too. I might move a microwave down to the basement and let the generator cook them because frying them is sometimes disastrous. Too bad that most of the frozen meals are for people on a diet. I need some fattening portions.

I found a can of biscuits and I might try heating them over the fire. Bread would be awesome.

Man, food is a daily obsession. Every morning I look at my dining room table and I mentally divide the food into days. I have ten days of food if I eat three meals a day. I’ve worked my way down the street and am starting to wrap around the block. I need to find three meals a day in order to stay even, and anything else is gained time. Anything less is another day closer to starvation.

Thank Sweet baby Jesus for the chocolate chip cookies. Three a day makes up for any bean/pea/spinach combination I end up eating in a day.

I set up the water barrel outside. I got really smart and found a screen door that I cut up. I got the idea from whatever screen that cars use to stop siphoning. The screen won’t stop bugs but at least it won’t turn into a bird bath. Now it just needs to really rain.

Little Joe was trying to climb a different tree. I thought about helping him up. I am not sure what he would do if he got up there.

Then I remembered he was a fucking zombie and I should really shoot him one day. Fuck, he’s not a pet.

Time to go back to looting. The pork chops look almost okay.

February 5th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

Well that was a weird day yesterday. I drank all of the beer and for some fucked up reason, I slept in the bed upstairs. It was a lot warmer than I expected, but it looks like I piled about ten different blankets on top of me.

And I pooped in the upstairs bathroom. Sigh, I can’t flush it so I’ll have to come up with something.

I don’t know if it was the drinking or just the fact that I laid around on my ass, but my back feels so much better. I think I was just exhausted. I have been working pretty hard since the zombie parade went through and I need to pace myself. I keep thinking of the next thing that needs doing and I am only one fucking man.

Still need to finish burying Screamer but I will give it one more day. Today I am forcing myself to relax without drinking or feeling sorry for myself.

I can not believe I sent e-mails out to ex-girlfriends but it is not a bad idea in theory. I sent a message to everyone on my address book to see if anyone responds. Great, it is the end of the world and I am going to still be worried about my e-mail.

I must confess that I am spending an extra hour on the computer today. It is worth the gas to see what is up. The Gawker website is till up but it hasn’t been updated. Daily Kos isn’t running at all. The news websites are down. Wikipedia is down so I can’t look up Harry Potter spoilers or water filtrating tips.

Fuck, I try Something Awful and nothing. I tried Facebook and nothing. I try Pirate Bay and the site is running but no one has added anything. People are still seeding episodes of Dollhouse though. I bet Eliza Dushku pictures outlives all of us.

I don’t know why Blogger is still working if everyone is dead. Twitter is down which was disappointing. I was curious if people in Iran colored their avatars gray in support of our zombie outbreak.

Just for my own amusement, here are the top ten trending topics on Twitter if Twitter was still up.

RIP
#zombiessuck
Food
Bullets
Heads
Fuck
KanyeWest
Bitten
Hell
Romero

I can tell I am still exhausted because I laughed at my own jokes for way too long. I am going to log off and save some power.

February 4th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am fucking drunk.

Man, I don’t often drink but at least beer tastes like something. Woot, I could get used to this.

Back is still shit. I stopped taking pills and started drinking beer. I figured it would conserve my medicine. Ha, and I wanted to get wasted.

Little Joe actually came to the door this morning. Freaked my ass out to hear him knocking. I couldn’t see him through the peephole but I saw him through the side window. Creepy little shit must have been worried about me. Or just hungry.

Been reading the porn magazines. Good times. Ladies with stockings, ladies taking off their stockings, ladies with shoes, ladies shaving legs and legs, legs, legs. Corbin loved his legs. I am more of a tit guy myself but I am starting to see their appeal. Leggy girls could run from zombies too lol.

Man I miss women.

Internet is crap but I tried to find some old friends. Classmates.com keep sending me spam to let me know there has been zero updates for my class. Pamela’s email bounced on me. I even tried emailing Wendy which is crazy cause she was such a mean spirited bitch but she didn’t answer. I hope she ain’t dead.

I miss people. I miss talking. I miss someone pretending to care if I was sick. I want my mom. I want a girlfriend to bring me hot food when my back hurts. I want someone to hug me and tell me it is going to get better.

Oh shit, I got to shit. Taking my gun to go shit outside. At least I have toilet paper for the shit. Shit this gross.

Logging off.

February 3rd

This is Jimmy Varn, sore as fuck and still alive.

Oh fuck, I am in pain. I am grateful the Screamers stockpiled different medicines because I would have been fucked up without their neproxium sodium. I did something to my back and it is fucking sore. I hope it is just the normal pain you get after digging two graves and not something serious. It needs to get better.

Shit, I do not want to be killed by zombies because I move slower than they do.

So I dug a grave for the female Screamer in the same yard as Mr. Corbin. I turned it into my own little graveyard. I am not sure if that makes me more civilized or just fucking macabre. If I was smart, I would start digging my own grave so whomever lives here next can go ahead and bury me.

Screamer’s grave went faster because I figured three feet was good enough for her. It is also a much narrower grave than the one I made for Corbin. Since Screamer got eaten, there is a bit less of her to bury.

I was almost done digging the grave when stopped for the night. I came back home and had my can of dinner corn and green peas. Then I spent a leisurely evening reading a Clive Barker anthology. I chopped some wood up for the fire and went to sleep in front of it.

Next morning I tried to get up. Ha, I half rose before the pain sent me back down to the floor. Fuck. I have never hurt this bad. It is right at the base of my spine and I am praying that it is not something serious. Why did I have to be a fucking bookseller instead of a doctor?

So far I have taken a shitload of painkillers and I have been trying not to move. I’ve moved to the couch and I spent the morning trying not to move. I keep the fire going because you know, it is fucking cold, but getting up a challenge. Standing is ok and sitting is ok, but it is the moving in between that sucks.

And oh fuck did it hurt to go the stairs to the generator today. I came though. I wanted to blog. I wanted to tell you what was happening.

I also wanted to tell the world that I am here. I am still alive. Come get me already! I am in a bad way and I need help. Just look for the chimney smoke you cocksuckers!

It started to rain this morning and I debated dragging my hurt ass up and getting the barrel out there to collect water. I laid there on the couch, in pain, and felt this tremendous sense of failure that I wasn’t collecting any water.

I fucking cried because I couldn’t collect rainwater in a dirty barrel.

This is getting to be too much.

Save me.

February 2nd

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

I finished Corbin’s grave and dumped him in it. I sort of pushed him onto a dusty blanket and dragged him down the attics stairs and out of the house. The blanket got dumped with him. Covering him went a lot faster. To be honest, I just wanted to get that shit over with. The more time I spent burying him, the more time I spend thinking about his suicide.

I paused to say a few words and realized I had nothing. Me and God have not been on speaking terms. When I think of God, I think of the bearded bastard my Mom worships. I think of the crazy old man in the sky who gives people the urge to fuck whomever they want and then damns them to Hell for doing it. I think about what kind of sick bastard would running around. God wasn’t some strict parent, he was fucking Eli Roth and this world was one big horror fest for him to get his socks off.

So after I ruled out a religious service, I thanked Corbin for the porn and wished him some peace.

It was cold last night and keeping the fire going was hard with all the little pieces of wood I had. I decided to quit fucking around with collecting twigs and I took the ax to some of the houses near me. I chopped up a deck, some decorative wooden columns and a swing set for firewood. It was pretty fun to go all destructive on some of the houses. The living room is turning into a mess of outside wood that I have gathered.

The faucets stopped producing water. Just to be sure, I went out and tried the water in some of the other houses. They had a little in their systems and I made sure to collect it before they went dry. I made a list of the houses I have cleaned of water and which houses I need to go to. Just another fucking thing I need to gather.

I am worried about what the water means. I guess it means no one is keeping the water treatment going. It might also mean that a pipe burst somewhere and there is no one around to fix it. For an hour all I could think about was how I could go and fix it. These crazy plans kept coming to my mind about finding the water cleaning plant and figuring out the process. It was stupid, but at the same time I kept thinking about it. Desperation has me thinking all sorts of shit.

Tell you one thing; I really regret all those toilet flushes. Right now I am taking my business outside in my neighbor’s yard, and then covering it with a shovel of dirt. I definitely need a better solution. How the fuck does an outhouse work anyway? Is it just a hole in the ground?

In the mean time, I need to find a source of water. I am thinking about collecting rain water. I might just the barrel out in the yard and scoop rainwater out of it. The thought of bugs or birds taking a bath in it does not appeal to me in the least.

Oh well, time to enjoy my delicious hot meal of frozen pizza cooked over an open fire. Thank Sweet baby Jesus and his Pacifier of Gold that I have those chocolate chip cookies. Three cookies a day wipes away any crappy meal I make.

February 1st

This is Jimmy Varn, gravedigger, and I am still alive.

I haven’t finished Corbin’s grave yet. The ground is pretty hard and it is slow going. It goes slower when I stop every time I hear a strange sound and I go to investigate. I have four fucking pistols near me at all times. No asshole zombies are getting the drop on me.

I would like to take a moment and call bullshit on those movies where people quickly dig a grave. Maybe in a damn sandbox, but in a back yard, it is fucking hard. I am sweating my ass off and the temperature is freezing out there. I wanted six feet but right now I would be happy with three feet.

This might be the most exercise I have gotten in years. Factor in my strict survival diet and I know I have lost some weight. Shit, I bet I lost four pounds from the shivering I did during the zombie parade.

What is really weird is how much more active I am. I am tired but I always find something more to do. Once it got too dark to dig a grave I went back to Home Base and organized it a bit better. I moved some furniture around to block the windows and organize the food so I can tell what I have with a glance at the kitchen table.

Back before Hell Day, the only time I washed my clothes is when I ran out of underwear. Now I have a daily routine to preserve the supplies I have. The end of the world has done wonders for my self discipline.

I plan to dig a grave for the Screamer too. It just seems right. Once you dig one grave, you start seeing reasons to dig others. This grave has been something of a test grave anyway. See, all those zombies I have been shooting are cluttering up my street. It is getting trickier to move the wheel barrow through the street. It also just fucking stinks. Some of the older ones are getting damn disgusting and I realized I needed some sort of disposal system. I toyed with burning them but damn, that would use things I can burn in the fireplace.

Shit, Milla Jovovich never had to shovel her dead off the streets.

I am going back to grave digging.