Human Ice Cream

I live in a world where most people willingly become zombies because "everyone else is doing it & they seem fine." And yet that is the world I live in. I have stayed inside, fearing for my life because I don't want to become a zombie, and people think I have some mental illness.

I watch through my window as they shuffle by, eyes glazed and vacant, their minds lost to the collective hive. I wonder if they see me as a relic of a bygone era, clinging to sanity in a world that’s long since forgotten it.

Still, I have yet to get used to the taste of human flesh. Like, why couldn’t it be ice cream? Bob just walks back and forth like a ninny waiting for prey. Like Bob, no one is going to just walk into you. I need to get out of here. There must be a human place for me out there.

Okay Bob OKAY! Do you want some human? “YEEAAHHSHHHH” Okay then…you have to get in the chopper and stop pacing like that. Bob…BOB…there will be human ice cream out there. Okay good…now that you’re in the chopper, time to scout for more humans…oh no what’s that…

Lava everywhere! The planet's crust split like a chapped lip. Mother Earth had no tolerance for zombies. The undead masses tumbled blindly into the fiery fissures. As Bob & his helicopter were vaporized by a volcanic blast, he wondered why the human ice cream was so hot.