The title of this article may lead you to believe that I hunt gay zombies. This is untrue, mostly because zombies who were once gay humans are now too gross to still be considered ‘gay’. Their cards were revoked long ago. No no, I am a gay hunter of zombies, and I need your advice.
Now that the world has been overrun with flesh eating monsters its’ become more difficult to find fashionable merchandise. No longer are the days of Channel spring lines and Ikea super sales. Now we must scavenge the city, risking our lives in a quest for that perfect pair of shoes. Often I pretend like I’m living out Pretty Woman, except now when the clerks don’t let me shop I take action with a double shot gun.
I say ‘we’ because there are others that survived. Not many, but there are a few. Mostly goths in black netting with pale white faces; apparently they looked too dead already. I was very lucky myself. You see, that particular day was a ‘me’ day, where I locked my doors, turned off the phones and played Madonna, Cher, and Britney Spears on rotation for 18 hours. How fabulous! In any case I missed the worst of it, and when I awoke from my blissful stupor I realized that my peaceful shopping days were over.
Now lets get back to the real problem. I decided to go for a stroll through the city on a mission to obtain a set of dinnerware to match my couch and coaster set. I plan to use them if the world ever repopulates enough to justify social events (hopefully with the ‘right’ type of people this time around, if you know what I mean). Never can be too prepared. So I put on my Egyptian cotton shirt, pin stripe pants and pushed my way past the outdated Ugg boots in my closet to grab my running shoes (hey, I can’t be all glamour when battling the undead). Then I grabbed my pink ‘girl power’ chainsaw and went to town.
Current day, it has been fairly uneventful; easy jog past the horde of slow-moving decayed masses. That is until I am now met with the hardest choice I’ve ever had to make. From out of the crowds has come a familiar face. Who else could it be but the iconic American singer, film actress, director and producer extraordinaire? Yes, it is Barbara Streisand, and she is in the way. There are no 2 ways about it. If I want that crystal serving tray I am going to have to take my trusty pink chainsaw to her crooked zombie nose. Or should I accept defeat, and allow my role model to pass the curse on to me? Could be an honor really, but it could be the worst defeat of my life (and the end of it, for that matter).
What should I do? Please, I need your help because my logic is not sound at the moment. Visit me at http://www.nolifeonline.com , and hurry! I do not have much time.
