Subject: SHIT THE BED
I'm fucked. You're fucked. Everybody's fucked. I'm not the news-watching type of guy but THE SHIT HAS HIT THE FAN. And by SHIT I mean Zombies. And by FAN I mean the entire fucking continent.
It started normally enough. Thousands of unlucky tourists came down with a bad case of chronic diarrhoea from digesting some dodgy cucumbers in the south of Spain, or at least that's what the press was telling us. The tummy rumbles eventually became the last of the poor bugger's problems when their bodies decomposed and shut down. This was pretty bad for Spain, knowing that they had a box of killer cucumbers lying around somewhere, but it was also bad for the rest of Europe when body bags in hospitals everywhere started bursting open and giving birth to flesh eating zombies. Some of which still smelt like cucumber induced diarrhoea.
This was a month ago, the first week was a bit of a mess. Every news channel was saying something different, twitter blew up with various B-List celebrities complaining about the legion of dead people stomping around in their gardens and eating their children. Internet forums were dismissing the cucumber theory as a cover up story for something much for diabolical. But before anyone could come up with a logical conclusion, the internet was fried.
Within days the infection hit Britain. The people in charge tried to prevent it by closing the airports and docks and shutting down the Eurotunnel but it was too little, too late. The disease managed to squeeze its way into the United Kingdom, tainting a huge chunk of the population. The merest signs of illness would mean your door being knocked down and a group of masked men wheeling you away to die in the comfort of a quarantined hospital bed, amongst thousands of others.
It worked for a day or two, but you can't monitor everybody. Eventually someone caught the cucumber bug and tried to fight, and failed. They then proceeded to shit their pants and turn into rampaging zombies.
The police forces managing the cities were easily overwhelmed. The first zombie infects two people, those two zombies infect two other. And so on, and so on. The army was called in and told to shoot anything without a working brain. Soon it became hard to differentiate between a zombie and a classic reprobate. Mistakes were made and innocents were shot on sight. Riots began. Supermarkets and other stores were raided and picked clean. The government fell apart and with it the military. The leaders of Britain had diminished into a group of unlucky public speakers who didn't know their asses from their elbows.
So the country has gone to shit, closely followed by the majority of Europe. The population was estimated at roughly 60% Zombie and 40% desperate, starving homosapien. I'm in the 40%, only because I'm holed up in a student flat where the kitchen is already stocked with tinned goods and microwave meals, all of which are non perishable and will last us weeks. I'm here with my flat mate Mo (Short for Muhammad), who spends all day practicing with his nun chucks for the morning that the dead break our door down. Some would say we got off easy, but the guy sweats like a wildebeest and the flat is quickly becoming filled with the pungent smell of unwashed man.
Every now and then there will be a scrape at the door followed by a grunt or two. We're pretty sensible when it comes to avoiding giving away our position. We've unscrewed all the light bulbs and filled the bath tub with water, just like the survival guide told us too (Helpfully broadcasted by the BBC). We have a cup of bath water a day to keep us hydrated. We ran out of diet Pepsi two days ago. Things have been tense since then.
The radio is telling me that the electricity will run out any day due to the zombie workers losing interest in maintaining it. Me and Mo have searched the entire flat for batteries and managed to scrape together a six pack of AA's and a single AAA. Pretty tragic, I know.
All in all the future is looking rather bleak. My blog viewers have reduced to 0 since the outbreak. I guess your all too busy eating each other. (Not in the good way).
Until next time.
Peace out; Rock on; Love your mothers.