Quarantine Diaries, Chapter 62
In the wake of the Meat Riots and the ensuing chaos that resulted, I had ceased to forage for the time being and lived off canned goods while the remaining populace enthusiastically slew one another outside my windows. Once the quiet crept back again I poked my head out to see what there was to see, scavenge what there was to scavenge.
Who knew bacon, or
the lack thereof, would be the straw that broke the camel's back?
Turns out eight days
was exactly how long America was
willing to wait for more bacon before they lost their shit and began the true
demolition of our society. Toilet paper was one thing, I guess, but allow the
bacon supply chain to break down and everyone starts gunning down their
neighbors all willy nilly.
Fuck with bacon
at your peril is the lesson future generations should take away from this.
Every day brings new
challenges and wonders. Today for instance I saw two babies fighting a raccoon
by a dumpster over half a pack of Now And Later's that was crawling with ants. I
chose not to involve myself but I was quietly rooting for the raccoon because
those babies looked savage and gross. I didn't like babies much before they
were feral and competing with rodents for sustenance and I certainly don't like them now when they're competing with rats to be the dominant nuisance species.
The Meat Riots, while horrific and barbaric, did make the streets quieter. Mostly that's because of the rise of the Cannibal Cults, but you take the good with the bad in this quirky post-civilization world we live in.
In related news, my
neighbor has recently gone full cannibal and while I try not to judge, I can't
help thinking "I really hope he's getting enough fiber..." I'm trying
not to be a diet-shamer here, I mean it's the end of civilization, eat whatever
you can get your hands on, ya know? If you've decided long pig is the answer and
you're comfortable with it, who am I to judge? Just the other day I saw a stray
beagle and thought to myself, 'I still
have half a bottle of Korean barbeque marinade that probably isn't totally
rancid yet, I should shoot that fucking dog and somehow eat it or something.'
Problem is I don't
know how to skin an animal and harvest its meat, nor would I want to if I
thought it might’ve been called 'Bandit'
or 'Loki' or at one point wore a bandanna or sunglasses in a humorous family
photo.
But clearly my
neighbor, who looked like Paul Rudd before the Apocalypase, has figured out a
way to trap the feral Girl Scouts that briefly ruled our streets and were a
threat to every living creature that dared to dart from building to building in
the shadows. Hoping against hope not to hear the distinct hunting calls of
"Dosi!" and the return calls of "Doe!" closing in from all
directions.
I learned early on
that if you're out foraging and you see a pristine box of Thin Mints, run
motherfucker. Run. They're already all around you and they move fast,
coordinate better than Green Berets and haven't developed the higher concepts
of mercy or compassion in their small, animal brains yet.
Somehow
"Larry" has figured out how to snare the clever little things since they've all but disappeared and
Larry is the only human I currently know who's putting on weight and frequently
has the smell of fajitas emanating from his door.
I'm just putting two
and two together, doesn't mean I'm right or that he's wrong.
Wouldn't want to
seem like I'm shaming anyone for doing what they had to do. God forbid.
So my latest drama
is with the Church of Steve The Savior,
one of the foremost new Cannibal Cults that I mentioned earlier. You see, three
days ago, I shot two of them dead through my door as they tried to leave a
pamphlet that I clearly indicated I didn't want. I felt I was being more than
clear by shooting them through my door and to be fair I did have to listen to
one of them slowly choke to death on his own blood for like five minutes which
was really annoying.
Then, not ten
minutes later as I was surveying the damage done to my door by me refusing their literature, two more of
them entered my building without permission, openly ignoring the clearly posted
NO SOLICITATION sign, and there went the rest of my magazine. Like fucking ammo
grows on trees nowadays, sunshine.
Silver lining
though, their obviously ambushed corpses have dissuaded all the meek predators
from coming anywhere near my door, although the smell is, admittedly, less than
ideal.
It's all about
tradeoffs in today's new reality. In order to combat the stench of the rotting
Cannibal Cultists outside my door, I ambushed a landscaping truck and stole a
bag of quicklime, which I sprinkle daily on the corpse warning-heap outside my
door.
It helps a bit but I
fear Summer's gonna be a bitch. I'm trying to decide if I even want to live in
a post-air conditioning world or not, although in the end I suspect that it's
all just a matter of when I run out of vodka and who might blow my brains out as I
attempt to steal their supply of coping juice.
That's where I'd put
my money on how it all eventually goes down. I'd give it 2 to 1 odds of being headshot while attempting to flee with
pilfered booze.
Other notable
contenders in my death pool include:
-Masturbates to death: 3 to 1 odds. I certainly realize the
hazard it poses, but am willing to Face The Dragon every single day
until it rots me from inside and one day, during climax, my entire midsection
explodes and I expire before the last of
my ejaculate and half digested pork n beans can drip off the ceiling.
-Eaten by neighbor, Larry: 5 to 1 odds. I'm probably too
gamey unless he gets really desperate...
-Instantly commit suicide the moment the vodka runs out.
Don't even try to steal any. Just paint a wall with my thinky-bits: 6 to 1 odds
but trending upward.
-Run down while foraging by ravening bands of former Uber
and DoorDash drivers who have donned bondage gear and now engage in an
interleague sport based on mowing down pedestrians with rat rod Kia's and
Corolla's with meat plows welded onto them: 12 to 1 odds. If it isn't a Prius
or Tesla, you can hear it coming. Then you simply wait for the right moment and
implement PLAN ONE.*1. If it's an all electric gang, the odds go up to 16 to 1.
-Taken down while foraging by unionized packs of stray
survivor dogs who’ve fallen back on their
lupine heritage in order to survive a world where they are both predators
and a possible burrito filling.: 20 to 1 odds. Not only do I have a special
understanding of canine language, I can just shoot them.
-Killed by a post apocalyptic Road Gang’s Sub Boss while trying to protect my canned
ravioli and Dinty Moore supply. Not even the
Big Boss, but his mohawk’ed and chaps-wearing sodomite commando. Again, not
judging. If I’m OK with cannibalism,
butt sex, whether consensual or not seems sorta ‘not really my problem either’: 25 to 1 odds. I'm expecting this and have reserved several rounds of .45 Colt, which regardless of sexual preference will still put enormous holes in you, even if you have a mohawk or are wearing leather pants.
-Nuked:100 to 1 odds. It's not unrealistic to think that some top ten global powers have considered unleashing their nuclear arsenals. In layman's terms this means there will never be a better eighteen minute window in which to savage your genitals with no lasting consequences.
-Nuked:100 to 1 odds. It's not unrealistic to think that some top ten global powers have considered unleashing their nuclear arsenals. In layman's terms this means there will never be a better eighteen minute window in which to savage your genitals with no lasting consequences.
I'll keep you posted on the outcome of my death pool as long as I'm able. But....you know. Probably won't be available to post a dying message with the pool winning method, so be conservative with your wagers.
One of the members of my community is running a "food truck". And by that I mean he built a fire under a dumpster full of rainwater and boiled a few corpses in it with some lemon rinds and half a cup of salt. If I could leave a Yelp review it would read something like this.
"I wasn't expecting much when the dumpster rolled out in front of my building, It didn't smell appetizing at first and when the vendor punctured the slime layer that had formed over the surface of the "stew", things didn't get much better.
However, appearances aside, the stew was actually pretty awful. It tasted like how I always imagined soapy bath water that had been used to render down the fat of old people's cadavers would taste. That being said, this IS a review so therefore in the spirit of fairness I will say it was very meaty, the portions were exceedingly generous and served in a limited edition tactical helmet, which I thought was a nice touch.
Was it worth one can of baby shrimp and one can of french cut green beans? Yes, but only because the 'while supplies last' tactical helmet soup bowl promotion, which frankly was genius. Would I eat from this dumpster again? No. Not unless a new wave of National Guard are deployed here and the helmet-bowl promo comes back."
2 STARS
Yours til next time,
-The StripperHerder Who Herds No More And Kills Religious Freaks and Would Be Ravioli Thieves
One of the members of my community is running a "food truck". And by that I mean he built a fire under a dumpster full of rainwater and boiled a few corpses in it with some lemon rinds and half a cup of salt. If I could leave a Yelp review it would read something like this.
"I wasn't expecting much when the dumpster rolled out in front of my building, It didn't smell appetizing at first and when the vendor punctured the slime layer that had formed over the surface of the "stew", things didn't get much better.
However, appearances aside, the stew was actually pretty awful. It tasted like how I always imagined soapy bath water that had been used to render down the fat of old people's cadavers would taste. That being said, this IS a review so therefore in the spirit of fairness I will say it was very meaty, the portions were exceedingly generous and served in a limited edition tactical helmet, which I thought was a nice touch.
Was it worth one can of baby shrimp and one can of french cut green beans? Yes, but only because the 'while supplies last' tactical helmet soup bowl promotion, which frankly was genius. Would I eat from this dumpster again? No. Not unless a new wave of National Guard are deployed here and the helmet-bowl promo comes back."
2 STARS
Yours til next time,
-The StripperHerder Who Herds No More And Kills Religious Freaks and Would Be Ravioli Thieves
*1 PLAN ONE: Pump rounds through it until it stops moving.
