April 2010 Archives
"We were running though a pretty elaborate fenced in area, something CEDA was using to keep people under control while they were checking them out," reflected a survivor as we interviewed him in a safe-room. "I had my favorite baseball bat with me and these members of the undead were after us, so it was my job to repeatedly bash their skulls in."
"That wasn't the weird part though," continued the survivor. "Even though I was smashing a bunch of those less-than-humans in front of me, a few were rather crafty and slashed and clawed at me from the side while I ran by. Eventually, those nicks and dents added up and I couldn't continue at the rapid pace my other survivors were keeping. I lined up my next target, but before I could let loose with the head-crushing move, a stray bullet hit me in the shoulder. I immediately fell to the asphalt, and when I looked at my hands, my bat was gone! Instead, I was holding a pistol!" said the survivor, shaking his head in disbelief. Further questions directed at this survivor proved useless as he continued to babble on about realism, valves, and gnomes.
"Many customers have misunderstood how to activate our products," a BATBLam Technologies representative told us over the phone. "If anyone would even glance at the manual that comes with those things, they would clearly see 'From a standing position, throw arms into air and collapse to the ground' in big bold letters. There is absolutely no way anyone could miss it. We sell quality sports equipment... they just also happen to turn into guns. The fact that your client used our product completely involuntarily is rather shocking."
Exactly how the transformation from baseball bat to pistol takes place, the representative could not say. "What I can tell you is that our research team has found a way to make it happen, and that's all you need to know."
We strongly advise all current, and potential, survivors heading out of or into New Orleans to weigh the pros and cons before deciding on a weapon of choice.
Inspired by The First-Person Observer.
Blatant Billy blasts boisterous Ben before beginning bed-time brunch. BLAM!
Cool, calculated, Chloe counts catastrophic contamination concealing cats.
Death defying demons destroy dangerous dark decanters denoted despicable.
Elegant endangered e-books examine escape exits.
Forgetful Frank follows Faith faithfully, forever free.
Generous gifts generated gallons galore. GOOD GOLLY!
Heuristic hackers help hide hapless Hank.
Iguanas interested in imitation incite indignation.
"Jello... just Jello, Julie."
Killing killers kicking kills kicking killers.
Lemon letters let lions leave lunch.
Masterful magic magnificently marvelous.
Never navigate Nether-worlds nervously.
Owls observe organs... obviously.
Picky people pack power-bars... possibly.
Questionable questions quote Queen quietly.
"Remember reading? Really? Rather repulsive," responded Ralph.
Silent solutions supplement special supporters.
Terrifying tornado targets tall trees.
"Undefined... uninterested... unintelligent," uttered Überman.
Velociraptors vindicated Vinny.
"What works well with watermelon?" wished Wendy.
X... I knew this letter would be a problem...
"Yellow!" yelped Yog-Sagoth.
Zig-zaging zebras zip.