(This is a piece of short fiction from a novel I’m working on.
(At least, I think this is fiction. It’s a journal about a day in the life of a businessperson in a post-Zombie-Apocalypse world.)

6 a.m.  Wake up screaming

6:15 a.m. Realize it’s actually other people’s screams. Go back to bed.

6:45 a.m. Wake up screaming.  Mutter something unprintable, especially since nobody is making books anymore.  Wake up.

7:30 a.m.  Wash using stockpile of Handi-Wipes. Put on sunglasses, umpire chest protector, pants.   Bash Can of Food with rock.  Remember (again!) to try to find a can opener.

8:15 a.m.  Drain bathtub into jars.  Try not to breathe.

8:30 a.m.  Look for coffee. Realize there’s still no coffee.   Bash head briefly with stick until feel relatively alert.

9 a.m. Pick up baseball bat.  Leave through garage.  Swing twice, knock down zombie, turn slightly, deliver headshot.  Lock garage.

9:15 Load Volkswagon.

9:30 a.m. – 10 a.m.  Think about how great it would be if the Volkswagon started.  Listen to the static on the radio and pretend that it’s the Beech Boys.

10:30 a.m.  Push Volkswagon.  Pause to slay living dead with bat.  Be grateful that there haven’t been a lot of them.

11 a.m.  Keep pushing Volkswagon.

11:30 a.m. Get winged by survivalist who thinks I passed too close to his shack.  Open trunk.  Throw him a bottle.  Get invited inside for lunch.

12:00 a.m.  Ahhh, stewed pigeon and fresh cigars.  Watch television with survivalist.  Agree that you get the best static when you point the screen to the southeast.  No idea why that is.

1 p.m.  Push car to town with survivalist.  Put out sign.  Start hawking.

GIN!  GIN!  You’ve smashed all the stores and searched all the basements!  All you’ve got left is hand sanitizer and homemade gin!  Buy now!  Buy now!  Will accept cans of food, bullets, and help fixing a Volkswagon!  Especially the Volkswagon part.

5 p.m.  Eat well-deserved candlelight zombie-steak dinner with survivalist at the best restaurant in town, namely, “The Only Restaurant In Town”.  Sell them remaining gin.

6 p.m.  It is dark.  Decide, along with restaurant staff, to sleep in the building overnight so as not to be consumed by the living dead.

8 p.m.  Well-deserved sleep, completely unbroken by screaming.

8:15 p.m., 9 p.m., 9:15 p.m., 9:30 p.m., 10 p.m., 10:30 p.m.  Awakened by screaming, some from zombies, some from other people in the building, some from self.

11 p.m.  Drink gin.  Fall into stupor.

Wake up next day.  Push car home.  Do it all again.

Next step: Learn to make whiskey.

~Jeff Mach