Our little stuffed bunny has paused outside the zombie-ridden street in front of his Celica, pondering his next fluffy move. Dive into the car and race for the nearest carrot patch, or dash away dash away dash away home on his hoppity little bunny feet?
You all have spoken, and running it is:
You have to admit, "all the Turtle Wax in the world" is a great line. How can I make fun of this guy if he's going to write this well?!
As to the decision itself, I'm of two minds. On the one hand, running has worked out pretty well so far, as we're still alive. Well, as alive as a stuffed bunny gets, anyway. On the other hand, it seems like a fortified building with lots and lots of guns would be a pretty decent place to "hole up". See what I did there?! How many times can I use dual punctuation marks in one paragraph?!
Great, now I'm emotionally (and grammatically) exhausted. You make the call and the case, you "Get Stuffed" Legionnaires!
So, um, did I sleep through Tuesday and Wednesday, or did you mix up the dates again, Jeff?
Well, going with my usual “I’m looking for the funny” approach, I say the payoff is coming when we make for the police station. Besides, I’d like to point out that running has only led to us bumping into greater and greater amounts of zombies. Yeah, think that one through.
Ah hell, I messed up the dates again. I have got to put that schedule tracker on the sidebar again, I am totally befuddled. We do Poll Position on Tuesdays usually, is that it?
Oi. I’m getting old! Oh well, we’ll just do the Versus on Thursday instead. No big whoop.
It’s cool, I figured you had a big day yesterday, and you’re feeling exhausted. I’m more amused than annoyed by this anyway.
Note that I have added the schedule already. It gets confusing when you only have two or three brain cells to rub together! I guess that’s how our zombie-fighting stuffed bunny feels.
I say hop like crazy to the police precinct. While they run outside to investigate/shoot wildly, we can snatch the keys to the armory, get some sort of bulletproof vest for stuffed bunnies and “commandeer” either a tank or some sort of urban assault vehicle from which to safely shoot zombies. In the tank/urban assault vehicle, we can also stash a substantial amount of weapons and ammo, as well as rations and water. In short, this is the place to gear up for survival! After that it’s on to the nearest Cabela’s/Outdoor World to get even more guns, ammo, sleeping bags and whatever else we’ll need. This is our time to get our Walking Dead on. So, yeah, I vote for the Police Station. Better chance of long-term survival, besides, chances are our home has been infested by zombies by now.
I say fight. I’m sick of running, were in a zombie apocalypse anyway; besides, we can get weapons, ammo, medical kits and some protection in case of a bite.
Okay, running seems to be the sensible thing to do here. But you know what? I’m tired of running. And every time we run away, we just run into more zombies. I say we get into the police station. (And die horribly to all the zombie cops waiting inside.)
Yeah, I’m pretty sure the writter is telling us to stand and fight. We’ve ran 3 times now, and we just keep find more zombies. Let’s take these suckers out!
I agree with everybody.
Or, as Homer Simpson put it so eloquently, “Well, listen to me Mr. Bigshot, if you’re looking for the kind of employee who takes abuse and never sticks up for himself, I’m your man! You can treat me like dirt and I’ll still kiss your butt and call it ice cream, and if you don’t like it, I can change!”
Standing and fighting would be the best bet, since zombie stories always need a band of scrappy survivors blowing the undead away sooner or later. But what I don’t get is, why run or fight? Why not just let a zombie bite you so you can join in on the action and be part of the winning team? Think about it – super strength, the ability to strike terror in those around you and all the fresh meat you can eat. Then when the humans are defeated and shoved into brain farms, all you have to do is sit back, relax and play jacks with your own knuckle bones.