An Awfully Interesting Day in the Life of a Deadbeat Teenager

I thought I'd be dead by now.

But it seems as if I'm still breathing.

So I'll make the most of it. By life, I mean.

At first, I thought this was a joke.

It aired on the news and I figured it was some kind of prank. Probably because I never watch the news.

But then I changed the channel. There it was again, and again. And again.

It seemed as if everyone else was in on a joke I had no part in.

Well, that was until the disease struck our town and the joke was on everyone. Steven, town's douchebag, was the first one in town to fall ill. Within the hours, his family had to lock him up in their basement. This type of stuff only happens on TV. I'd know, because of how many series I've binge watched on my living room couch. It was such a trend, like two years ago, so in my opinion, the zombie apocalypse came a little too late, but whatever. Better late than never.

Shame that I won't know how The Walking Dead is going to end. That was the only reason I jumped onto the zombie bandwagon and became obsessed with being the last man standing. Just like any obsession, it ended, and quite recently actually. So without all that gear, I may as well go rogue and use the bat my grandmother keeps stored for rainy day intruders.

I turn on the joke. The anchor on the channel says there are near 100 people infected and 79 lost causes on top of that.

I think I've seen too many conspiracy theories, because I'm 86.7% convinced that the government has released the disease, rather than it originating in a river somewhere in Africa. I think it's a lab born disease, made by a group of geniuses who actually know what they're doing. Or maybe some morons, much like myself were messing in their parents' lab and released the most contagious bacteria in the planet. I can't blame them really, but why in this small town, smack-dab in the middle of Washington state?

There's a cry for help and desperation knocks on my front door. It's barely 10 PM. The voice sounds familiar come to think of it. It takes me a solid moment, but I know who's outside of my door. Jenny, my ex. She dumped me after I deliberately chose to drop out of high school, oh, 3 months ago give or take.

I open the door. Won't that look cool on my tombstone?

Jeff Bridges, died in honor of saving lives during the zombie apocalypse.

Wait. If I get bitten, I won't have a tombstone. What a dumb-ass.

I consider not opening the door for a moment.  We'd been together for 18 months, even if after she dumped me, I was surprisingly fine. But I owe a lot to Jenny, so I open the door.

It's not Jenny though.