Friday night, April 13, 1995. School’s out and we head for my basement for what was supposed to be a weekend of solid gaming while my parents were out at the theater and hotel. Early the next morning we found that we had inexplicably RUN OUT OF CHEETOS AND OTHER DELICIOUS SNACK-RELATED ITEMS. My best bro Andy and I left to replenish our supply while Milo stayed behind to feed my cat, Scruffy. It seemed like a nice enough morning, clear blue sky, but it seemed a little quiet. A little too quiet perhaps. As we strolled through the park, we were called over by a man whose wife was having convulsions or something on the ground.

Before we could get an ambulance on the scene, the woman FRIGGIN ATTACKED ME AND TRIED TO BITE ME. I dodged her easy enough, but her husband wasn’t so lucky. She bit him. Holy merry mother of fuck, I thought, ZOMBIE!!!!!! Andy didn’t listen to a goddamn word I said, so my only option was to drag his white ass all the way to Safeway (heh, wonder if it was the safe way to go) and away from the zombies.

Once we got to Safeway, we locked the doors behind us. Finally, Andy agreed that they were in fact zombies, and something serious was going down. I knew this would require all of my military training. I admit I kinda freaked the fuck out before, but now that that episode is over and done with, it’s time to take charge and push this bitch down the stairs. First things first, we need food. Andy and I split up. While he went to go look for some knives and stuff, my assignment was to go get food, namely Cheetos. NO CHEETOS ANYWHERE, THIS TRULY IS THE APOCALYPSE!!! Gasp, gasp, sorry, lost my composure there for a minute. At any rate, the store was deserted all but for us and a few hungry zombies eating a cow in the back.

I grabbed a couple shopping carts and we absconded down the hill. While Andy left to go find a suitable car (there were dozens littered on the street), I returned to my house to get Milo, Scruffy, and some much needed equipment. When I got home, I returned to the most interesting sight. Some sofas and chairs were overturned and shredded, and in the middle of the room were Milo wielding a makeshift keyboard-flail and my cat Scruffy. The two were having a showdown, and Scruffy was winning (I love that cat). Once I calmed the two down, we soon enough had our new van loaded with food, Scruffy, medicinal stuffs, and other weapons (power tools, baseball bats, etc).

Milo chose to stick with this keyboard-flail for the time being. Andy took a samurai sword we bought at Comic Con last year. I, however, like to keep a variety on hands, so I armed myself with a weed whacker, a hedge trimmer, and my lucky baseball bat (Triple-Header). Just as we were about to leave, my living room was attacked by 3 zombies, all of whom I recognized from school. I initially had some trouble (and almost got bit), but we quickly had the situation under control. I personally knocked the heads off of two of the invaders while Milo picked off the third.

It was only after all of them were dead that I realized none of us knew about our parents. I immediately picket up the phone and called Hotel Arts, where my parents were staying. Instead of my parents, I got a survivor. He told me the hotel was where this outbreak started and that my parents had checked out before things got hairy. I promised the man we would find him. Milo, Andy, and myself agreed that we would firstly need to get some better gear, and then find our parents.

This was but the first taste of what was to come. I fear for our survival, and even more for that of our parents and all of our chances at staying alive. One step at a time.

—Rufio Willis

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