WTF

Most of the boxes from my room are being used to pack up the items. My job is to make sure everything is taken care of. I plan to take a friend I met before I found the museum. If he doesn't get here today I will have to leave the museum along with the humans and the dog.

When I inspect the bus, I felt offended. The bus had paint over the nasty looking spikes Sean had carved. The tires’ rims had sharpened metal that look like spears. Most of the windows were covered with wooden boards. There was now a small door on the roof of the bus. Below the front glass was a painted face. It looked like a monster, with its elongated teeth and the reddish green face. It looked like he was insulting real monsters. Sean has a very bad attitude that I don’t like.

The boxes were disordered. I don’t like it. When I am nervous I will order things until I’m satisfied. It's a strange case of OCD. I am nervous, with my friend, the dog, and the zombie bites. I don’t like bites, they hurt and are really ugly. I don’t think it is okay for zombies trying to bite my flesh off. There are going to be more than a thousand in this part of the city. When can I get my toothbrush? I’m out of breath mints.

At dinner I cook up some spaghetti. Not the cardboard kind. It's not like anyone taught me how to make it. There's this film where a man describes how to make spaghetti. I've learned from there. After many failed attempts, I mastered it completely.

We eat in peace. Everything seems like nothing awful will arrive in our journey. We know the truth, though. Any of the humans, including myself, can die out of the safe ten feet high fence. All we can do is to not think about the possibility of being killed by zombies.

Halfway through my plate I hear a soft noise from outside. It sounded like the noise of a fence opening, a click. The humans would worry if I tell them now. I excuse myself from the table that I found from the back of the museum. The noise I heard was the fence I built. One of the doors was open. Luckily no zombies were close enough to get inside. I quickly locked the door back into place. I heard a twig snap behind me. I turn around ready for anything coming at me. I was ready for a super smart zombie that can open locks from the outside or a human who was going to steal our supplies. Instead I found Untoten lying on the ground, bleeding to death.

He’s an idiot. I drag Untoten inside the museum. His body was light; I've only ever seen him drink beer before. He is the clumsiest man I have ever met. Why do I have to take care of him? I can let him bleed to death or feed him to a zombie. Nevertheless he has saved me once.

I was searching for delicious drinks I never tasted before. I was younger back then- about four months ago. There was a whole counter of these glass bottles in a place called drug store. On top of a bottle was a metal disk covering the rim. I easily snapped the disk off. Inside the bottle was a smelly liquid. I ignored the smell and drank, emptying the bottle. I started feeling dizzy. The liquid must have been poison. Poison can’t harm me, I thought. I’ll only take a short nap. Before my head hit the floor, I literally fell asleep.

I remember dreaming of a movie. It had contained a lot of alcohol and many dwarves. So that’s what it was: beer.

I heard talking before I opened my eyes. I woke up with zombies around me trying to get a piece of me. The zombies didn't know that they can’t exactly rip me apart. It was still gross because they were making those nasty marks on my arms and leg. The zombies looked recently dead; there were at least 4 and a half of zombies around me. I heard someone talking to my right. It was a man drinking the poison I swallowed. He kept saying things with a slur. I wondered if I talked like that. The man wasn't taking notice of me. Back then I did not know I could eat zombies. I pleaded for him to help me. Instead he did a hiccupping laugh. I was angry he didn't at least try to help me. The zombies’ heads fell off when I started to strangle each of them. I was going to strangle the man until I saw he was bitten. I took pity on him: I stayed with him, only for a while.

He had woken up and said his head hurt. “What’s your last wish?” I asked.

He laughed. “What you talking about?”

I told him he was bitten, his wound was below his ribs.
He said, “This little scratch won’t hurt me.”

He kept talking about how zombies are small flies that just buzz around; I didn't know he was always like that. He said his name is Untoten and that there is one place without any zombies. (By the way, he was right.)I decided to stay in the place he said to go. Untoten also told me something else: He will visit me someday. How can this idiot know this much? Maybe he isn't much of an idiot. I stare at him on the ground, talking about booze. He really is an idiot.