We all know the zombie apocalypse is coming any day now. Many of my friends have told me I’d be their No. 1 pick to be their protector against those undead monstrosities. If we’re ever in that situation, I’m here to tell you that you should choose me for your fallout plan.

First, I’ve seen assloads of zombie movies, from the great “Night of the Living Dead” to the awful “World War Z” to the underappreciated “Cooties.” While my research is important and thorough, I don’t know if I believe zombie-like creatures can possibly exist. I guess once it happens, then we can totally be sure, but then it might be too late. Whatever, we’ll improvise. I am prepared with a bug-out bag that’s supposed to be packed with food, a weapon and some other extra stuff, but often I steal the snacks and money from myself.

Zombies are slow and stupid. Who cares how many of them there are? But what if crystal meth-infused ghouls attack? We need to think about mobility. I can’t drive a car. I’m in awesome shape, but I’m no Usain Bolt. I’m not a sprinter or a distance runner, but I can keep a certain pace for about an hour or so. I also need to stretch, warm up and then cool down. So you’ll need to distract the monsters while I touch my toes and all that.

I’m strong enough to carry important stuff like extra food, books, medicine, my diary, a golf ball from a really fun bachelor party and maybe some other stuff like my marble collection to keep me from being bored to death. Since my weight is big, I’m going to need the lion’s share of whatever food we get. And my alcohol tolerance is high, so we’ll need a lot of that, too.

A great thing is that my blood is O positive, which means I can give blood to any other survivor out there. I don’t know how many phlebotomists will be alive after the walking dead take over, but just keep that in mind. I’m also an organ donor, so if somebody needs a kidney, I could help. I’d prefer to save the lives of the living rather than temporary satiate cannibals.

My appearance may look tough, but I’m actually really sensitive. When a friend of mine gets eaten, I’ll cry just like everybody else. However, my wacky emotions might make me want to snap a selfie next to the weird stuff we find like dead celebs, burned-down dorms or zombies wearing stupid clothes.

In movies, people always get stuck in houses, malls, schools or whatever. Some goody-two-shoes sees their ex-boyfriend or dog outside the house, so the sappy idiot opens the door and then all the monsters come pouring inside. If you even think of being a hero, I might just let you reunite on the outside.

If you don’t annoy the crap out of me, we’ll be a great match.

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