Chaingun
Who do ya love?
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2008
- Posts
- 8,203
Damn! The undead walk the earth, society has broken down, and we must all band together for protection!
Don't believe me that the living dead are amongst us? Haven't been to Wal-Mart or a Cleveland Browns game lately, have you?
If you're lucky enough to still be among the living and need a place to hide, come join me in the bunker. I've got liquor, DVD's, a big diesel powered generator, and a moat full of zombie bodies that I am converting to bio-diesel to power my defense system. When it's safe, we'll forage for food among the ruins of our civilization and rebuild some semblance of order. In the meantime, I have duties for all who need a place to refuge from the flesh eating hordes.
Men: Bring a rifle, ammo, some useful skill, and a willingness to go out on patrol during the day with the Zombie Response Squad. If you aren't able to handle a Kalashnikov rifle or rewire the bunker so that the disco lights flash in sequence, you might want to consider either washing the dishes, doing the laundry, or simply moving on and trying to find shelter at the School for Orphaned Teenage Girls down the road; I hear there's a group of lady boys trying to shelter there that might be more appropriate for your, um, "skill" set.
Ladies: Come one, come all. Plenty of room. Come in, have a drink, take a hot shower, and relax. I know it's been tough out there avoiding the legions of hell's minions who simply want to rend the flesh from your bones. Wanna lie around and eat bonbons and watch old movies or listen to my classic rock CD collection? That's cool. (I recommend starting with The Police's When the World is Running Down.) Wanna live the life of a kept woman away from the rotting smell of what passes for the human race these days? Come on in. 'Got a knack for reloading ammo and magazines, making tasty food, telling jokes, or simply being good company? All are welcome here. Wanna go out on patrol and put the barrel of a Glock 18 to the forehead of some fiend who in his previous "life" probably trolled you five times a day on Lit with barely legible offers of pics of his junk while typing one handed? Pull the trigger, Lady.
I'd be happy to have you in the bunker.
Be warned though. I get drunk on Saturday nights and quote Monty Python movies, tell dumb jokes, and stare a little too long at your boobies. Sometimes I go topside and flip on the spotlights to attract the walkers just to expend forty or fifty thousand rounds from the pintle mounted chainguns in their direction. Whatever, when they were alive, they probably were the type to drive all the way from Florida home to Michigan in the left lane on I-75 with their blinkers on. They deserve all the lead poisoning we can provide.
What's your skill? What are you bringing? And how soon can you get here?
Get some, Zombie Hunters!
Don't believe me that the living dead are amongst us? Haven't been to Wal-Mart or a Cleveland Browns game lately, have you?
If you're lucky enough to still be among the living and need a place to hide, come join me in the bunker. I've got liquor, DVD's, a big diesel powered generator, and a moat full of zombie bodies that I am converting to bio-diesel to power my defense system. When it's safe, we'll forage for food among the ruins of our civilization and rebuild some semblance of order. In the meantime, I have duties for all who need a place to refuge from the flesh eating hordes.
Men: Bring a rifle, ammo, some useful skill, and a willingness to go out on patrol during the day with the Zombie Response Squad. If you aren't able to handle a Kalashnikov rifle or rewire the bunker so that the disco lights flash in sequence, you might want to consider either washing the dishes, doing the laundry, or simply moving on and trying to find shelter at the School for Orphaned Teenage Girls down the road; I hear there's a group of lady boys trying to shelter there that might be more appropriate for your, um, "skill" set.
Ladies: Come one, come all. Plenty of room. Come in, have a drink, take a hot shower, and relax. I know it's been tough out there avoiding the legions of hell's minions who simply want to rend the flesh from your bones. Wanna lie around and eat bonbons and watch old movies or listen to my classic rock CD collection? That's cool. (I recommend starting with The Police's When the World is Running Down.) Wanna live the life of a kept woman away from the rotting smell of what passes for the human race these days? Come on in. 'Got a knack for reloading ammo and magazines, making tasty food, telling jokes, or simply being good company? All are welcome here. Wanna go out on patrol and put the barrel of a Glock 18 to the forehead of some fiend who in his previous "life" probably trolled you five times a day on Lit with barely legible offers of pics of his junk while typing one handed? Pull the trigger, Lady.
I'd be happy to have you in the bunker.
Be warned though. I get drunk on Saturday nights and quote Monty Python movies, tell dumb jokes, and stare a little too long at your boobies. Sometimes I go topside and flip on the spotlights to attract the walkers just to expend forty or fifty thousand rounds from the pintle mounted chainguns in their direction. Whatever, when they were alive, they probably were the type to drive all the way from Florida home to Michigan in the left lane on I-75 with their blinkers on. They deserve all the lead poisoning we can provide.
What's your skill? What are you bringing? And how soon can you get here?
Get some, Zombie Hunters!
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