It’s 2012 and the day of doom we’ve been talking about for the past few years is rapidly approaching, no not the Olympics, but the prophesied end of the world in December, Truth be told, I’m not particularly worried; I’m perpetually scared of getting old and the end of the world will simply mean that I’ll be an eternal teenager and will miss the dreaded twenty milestone.
The only way I shall be fearful of the apocalypse is if the human race is set to be eradicated by zombies.If this happens then I will actually be in hell before even having died. Ever since I saw the game resident evil, the thought of zombies is enough to bring me out in a cold sweat. Britain has a better chance of winning Eurovision than me lasting five minutes.
Of course, my fear of a zombie apocalypse extends to more than my terror of the undead, the reason I am so fearful is because I know I have no skills that will aid me in surviving. I’ve played enough games of laser quest and paint balling to know I’m not equipped for a war zone: in lazer quest I ran past my team mates screaming whilst being chased by ten year olds. In paint balling I got cocky when it was all quiet and walked into a clearing and was the victim of being shot at by more than five paintball guns, the pain was unbearable, the kind where you don’t want to live anymore – my bum was so bruised it turned colours unknown to mankind. If lazer quest and paintballing turn me into a screaming, bruised wreck then I don’t think I’ll fare any better when faced with the a crowd of flesh eating monsters, I lack the prowess of Lara Croft.
It’s not even like my degree will aid me in the apocalypse; sports science students will be fit enough to outrun them, chemistry students will create a zombie only affected bomb, and engineers will be able to build a plane to escape……and I can quote poetry. Somehow, I don’t think an 18th century ballad will be of any use to me, it doesn’t even aid me now! My only other option is to throw books at the zombies, my anthologies are heavy, they can break backs. However, I have a terrible aim, and also I’m pretty sure lugging a sack of books around with me will slow me down somewhat when trying to escape – not what I want.
Ultimately, if zombies descend I’ve decided the safest option for me to do is get under my covers and let the inevitable mental breakdown commence. When the zombies find me I shall be a bumbling wreck who is incapable of coherent speech, they’d think they’d their job was already done, so maybe I do have a small chance of surviving after all……….