My zombie survival plan: go to Costco. With fortress-like
walls and a lifetime’s supply of food and toilet paper, Costco can sustain me
for the rest of my days. I’ll barricade the door and happily live on a diet of
free rotisserie chicken samples and food court churros.
For moral support, my
dog is a definite requirement. Friends and family are more debatable. On one
hand, traveling in groups could save my life in an emergency; on the other, I
would be bummed if I had to shoot their zombified corpses. It’s probably not
worth the headache. They can find another lifesaving facility, far away from my
Costco. I’ll just have to remember to call on Christmas and Thanksgiving.
Only those with practical trades – like doctors, engineers,
plumbers, etc. – will be allowed to enter my domain. Artists and philosophers will be left for the zombies, the way Darwin intended. Together, my small band
of survivors will wait for the zombies to be wiped out, presumably by the cast
of The Walking Dead, until we can
once more emerge from Costco into the brilliant light of day.
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