Mike poured out Honey Nut Cheerios and smiled as the bowl chimed as it was filled. He opened the refrigerator and pushed aside the items he didn't care for in search of what would complete a lazy Saturday's breakfast.
"Dude, where's the milk?" Mike asked as he shut the door.
"Oh, I was kinda hungry before I fell asleep and drank it, sorry bro." Steve answered
"Well, at least lemme know before I pour out a bowl, this is just depressing."
"Dude it's all good, let's just get in the car and get some, we need other crap anyway right?"
"Yeah. Keys, keys, keys...Keys! Got 'em!"
Mike and Steve headed out to the car. When mike turned the key nothing happened at all.
"Seriously!?" Mike exclaimed as he slapped the steering wheel.
"Looks like we're takin' this adventure by foot, let's go" Steve strived for optimism. Trotting down the road Mike was texting Amanda to vent his frustrations of his car's inactivity. Steve suddenly stopped.
"Man! Frickin' zombies!" Steve pointed out how the road was blocked with over a hundred walking corpses.
"Dude I got this" Mike rubbed dirt onto his clothes and ripped his shirt. He then limped forward with his jaw agape and arms raised and bent unnaturally, all the while letting out a depressed groan. Steve shook his head and hesitated for a moment as he saw his friend shamble out among the dead. He saw that the zombies paid the same amount of attention to Mike as they did to the other gouls. Steve followed suit and degraded his appearance, then wobbled out to follow Mike. He was amazed at what was happening. Not a single souless body cared he was even there. Steve was suddenly struck in the back by another body. He whipped around to see it was Mike. Steve glared at him. Mike smiled and gagged out two nearly unintelligible words.
"Stay cool." So he did. Both of them gimped across the last block of the street which was infested with the undead. Though they walked through the valley of the shadow of death, they feared no evil. They had nothing to fear until one zombie that not only had both its eyes, but a set that was still good, saw through their disguise then lunged and snapped at Mike. Mike panicked and jolted away to keep his distance. He watched as the thing still had full intention of biting into his flesh, until its brains came out the side of its skull accompanied by a loud crack. Steve stood with a pistol in in his hands.
"What!? How didjoo? Where?-" Mike stammered until he was inturrepted by the answer he sought.
"Dude, there's always guns wherever zombies are. It's like smoke and fire!" Steve stood with a triumphant smile until he saw the rest of the horde turning and moving toward them because of the sound of the gun. Mike took a nearby AK47 into his hands, took and and let loose a burst of rounds into the head of a near zombie. Mike took aim again and was rewarded with a discouraging click.
"Son of a-! Run!" Mike and Steve ran full steam away from the horde. Steve fired a few rounds towards their direction. Mike looked back to see the shuffling horrors far behind them, very slowly. Mike and Steve's pace dropped when they realized that zombies can't move fast at all.
"Well that was gay." Mike stated the obvious and carelessly tossed the assault rifle behind him.
"Pfft, yeah. Frickin' zombies." Steve agreed. They walked down the road a short distance and arrived at the grocery store. At the entrance of the store a mummy stood up and approached them. Steve pushed him away and into a wall.
"This ain't your tomb, faggot."
"I was just gonna ask if you had any change."
"Dude, Steve, he just wants some change. Sorry bro, all I got is plastic." Mike shrugged his shoulders and followed Steve into the store.
"Kay, what do we need? Milk, I know we're out of pastrami."
"Milk, pastrami, bread, mayonnaise? Yeah, mayonnaise, we got tomatoes and provolone...bacon and eggs! We need good breakfast stuff."
"Cool, we got a cart, let's us go." Mike brushed off a hand that was holding onto the cart handle, stepped on it when it hit the ground, and went his way.
When the cart was carrying two loaves of bread, mayonnaise, a few packs of bacon, a couple cartons of eggs, they came to the butcher for their beloved pastrami. The butcher held a bloody machete in one massive hand and stood hunched over the the display.
"Yeah man, I want a pound of sliced pastrami, please." Steve ordered. The butcher grunted and did nothing more than maintain his stone-faced stare.
"Dude, just a pound of pastrami, that stuff, right there." Steve pointed to a block of brined beef. The butcher's eyes moved to the pastrami Steve indicated. The butcher's eyes seemed to have glazed over.
"Dude! Pastrami! Slice it! Comprende!?" Mike was losing his patience, especially on an empty stomach that hadn't any breakfast. A small, gaunt, old man came from around the corner in the back of the butchery and corrected the large machete wielder.
"Do as they ask, Monte." The behemoth then took the block of pastrami, applied it to the meat slicer, wrapped up a pound of thinly sliced pastrami, and handed it to Steve with with a smile that returned to a Stoney grimace as soon as it was taken. Mike and Steve walked away from the butcher and towards the dairy, passing some frozen good on the way.
"Dude! Cookie dough is on sale!" Mike put one roll in the cart then had his hand on another.
"Man, we already got two and a half in the freezer." Steve objected.
"Yeah, and I wanna eat the rest of the half tonight for retarded movie night. That leaves one for a whole week."
"One is totally enough."
"You burn through one a week by yourself playing Call of Duty." Steve silently picked up two rolls which went into the cart, his way of admitting defeat. Mike and Steve obtained two gallons of milk without problem then came to the registers.
"Self-check-out bro, freakin' vampresses always hit on everyone." Steve suggested.
"Dude, they're such babes. C'mon they're all talk."
"Seriously? Dude, their hickeys kill."
"I'm screwin' with ya, chillax...great, some old, psycho witch is takin' her sweet time."
"Care to part with your milk?" The witch asked with her eyes fixed on the sole reason the boys came to the store.
"Lady, that's why we came here. It's three bucks a jug, not that hard to get your own." Mike was not even going to try to play nice about bartering with his precious whole milk.
"It'd be a shame if two boy came in here, but came out as rats." Mike was not in the mood and took a water bottle from the mini-fridge near the register.
"Be a shame if your face was uglier than it already is, old hag." Mike then lobbed the opened water bottle into the warted nose of the witch. She threw her head back while screaming in agony, then threw the water bottle back at him. The witch cackled with a menacing grin until a whole formed in her chest and quickly released blood. Steve held the pistol in his hand once again.
"You seriously think The Wizard of Oz had anything right? Or that I wasted all my shots on the zombies?...tsk tsk tsk."
"Quit hatin' you would have tried the same...kay, maybe not. Let's just get our crap and go." Mike paid for everything in the cart and they stepped out of the store. The parking lot was full of the same undead fiends they saw earlier.
"Frickin' zombies! Seriously!?" Steve had became very annoyed with the living dead nuisances. "Any bright ideas, Mike?"
"No guns?"
"Do you see any? NO!"
"like smoke and fire my eye, moron."
"Shut up! Not the time, turkmeat!"
"I got it."
"Okay well? Ya just gonna stand there!?"
"I dibs all the pastrami if we do it."
"C'mon, this really ain't the time!"
"You called me turkmeat."
"Alright fine! You're not a turkmeat."
"......and?"
"And what!?"
"Strami."
"Whatever! It's yours!"
"Get in the cart."
"What!?"
"Nike it up, two percent!"
"I ain't no two percent ya freakin' psycho." Steve muttered under his breath as he sat down in the cart. Mike sprinted with the cart full speed into a pocket where the undead weren't as dense. Mike used e weighted cart as a shield and weapon to brush off any corpses in front of him.
"You are the stupidest kid who ever lived, Mikey!"
"You never remember that they move slow!"
"Oh! Who bolted it from 'em first huh?"
"Can it, two percent! We're almost out!" Slamming one more zombie off balance was the last step to freedom from the horde. Now they are only a four mile an hour pace away from keeping good distance from the gouls.
"Frickin' zombies...they suck!" Steve shook with adrenaline as he hopped out of the cart.
"Look what ya did, moron, ya just had to sit on the eggs!"
"Hmmm I dunno, life or busted eggs? That's a tough one!"
"Ever thought to hold 'em?"
"Oh everybody thinks clearly when there's frickin' zombies in your face."
"This is why you're two percent milk, Steve-o." Mike told him as he pulled the cart through the door to the house. They unloaded the groceries and were glad to find that only the eggs were damaged in the mayhem. Mike took to making a toasted pastrami sandwich. It was now too late in the day for a simple bowl of cereal. He opened the refrigerator for something to wash it down with.
"Dude, where's the Dr. Pepper?"
