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The other night, I dreamt we were beseiged by zombies. We knew they were coming, so we barricaded ourselves in a store behind the registers in the back corner, where they'd have to wind their way through the shelves and we could take potshots at them as they came. We laid in a remarkable store of guns - instead of just stockpiling ammo, apparently the plan was to just grab an entirely new gun when the bullets ran out. We neatly stacked them in piles by kind - the shotguns here, the rifles there, the AK-47s here. And then they came.
The zombie baked goods.
That's right, a horde of slavering croissants and donuts and bread loaves. I blew a layer cake to smithereens with a shotgun. But because they didn't have a head, you really had to break them down to the crumb level to stop them. Still, we were doing ok until a baguette wiggled under the counter and bit my ankle. And then I knew I'd have to shoot myself before I turned on my fellows.
...ok, no more candy before bed.
The zombie baked goods.
That's right, a horde of slavering croissants and donuts and bread loaves. I blew a layer cake to smithereens with a shotgun. But because they didn't have a head, you really had to break them down to the crumb level to stop them. Still, we were doing ok until a baguette wiggled under the counter and bit my ankle. And then I knew I'd have to shoot myself before I turned on my fellows.
...ok, no more candy before bed.
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Date: 2009-11-14 03:44 pm (UTC)From: