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Subject: zombine.rar
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Zombine: A Memoir

[Edited on 05.24.2011 4:53 AM PDT]

  • 01.26.2011 1:50 PM PDT
Subject: Zombie Leage Gaming
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  • 01.27.2011 4:07 PM PDT
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  • 02.03.2011 9:19 AM PDT
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  • 02.03.2011 9:19 AM PDT
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  • 02.03.2011 9:21 AM PDT
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  • 02.03.2011 9:22 AM PDT
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  • 02.03.2011 9:23 AM PDT
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  • 02.03.2011 9:23 AM PDT
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  • 02.03.2011 9:24 AM PDT
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  • 02.03.2011 9:25 AM PDT
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  • 02.03.2011 9:26 AM PDT
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This is an absurd true story that happened to me over this past weekend, and all of it is true, I sh­it you not.

I got to my grandparent's house on Friday evening, on Saturday morning, we went to my grandfather's cousin's 50th wedding anniversary. There was this weird guy there, who was trying to sell crack out of the back of his truck in the parking lot of this church. I will get back to him in a second.

Besides him, everything was normal there, except this guy in his early 20s, and his female cousin who dressed like a hooker. at a later point in time, I walked out of the back of the church to grab something from the car, when I noticed the hooker blowing her cousin. I yelled "What the hell, aren't you cousins?" and the hooker said she'd give me a BJ if I didn't tell anyone.

I was about to let her, when I noticed she had horribly jagged teeth, and I thought I saw the guy's dick bleeding (it was probably only 4 inches long, and it looked like a pencil) and I kindly refused.

By kindly, I mean that I flipped the fu­ck out and fell into a nearby ditch, where I found the guy selling crack mastur­bating to a cat he had trapped in a cage. I attempted to get out of this ditch without him noticing me (because he was apparently batsh­it crazy, and this was hillbilly central; I had already witnessed (not so) hot incest with a fugly whore). Unfortunately, this ditch was about 10 feet deep, and was really steep, and there was a lot of mud all over the sides. I had torn my good shirt, and my pants were ruined.

I saw no way out where I was, so I decided to follow this crack junkie, because he got down there and obviously had a way out. After about 10 or so minutes listening to him grunting while stroking his laffy taffy, he finally came all over the cat then reached into the cage and snapped it's neck. Now this was all horrifying in its own right, I still had to get out of the ditch and avoid this guy. He started walking down the ditch, and I followed him, all the way into what appeared to be a sewer drain. There was no way I was crawling down there, because that was surely where he kept his pet alligator and hooker sex slaves, as well as his stash.

So after wandering around for a little bit, I found a way out and found a large search party looking for me, and the police were out there, too.

At the end of the day, I got back to my grandparent's house, got a shower and went to bed. I woke up the next morning, and found that I had slept through a robbery, which involved 14 gunshots and one dead crack addict that had followed us home.

Now, I did fall asleep listening to my Zune, and I usually have the volume up really high (lolhigh, just like the drug junkie) and I am a really heavy sleeper. But seriously, WTF? My grandfather had been shooting squirrels all weekend long, and he had a fully loaded handgun in this back room. And he is an ex-police officer. Those two combined equaled one dead robber, and 14 bullets exchanged. After this, my dad came to get me, but he was in a car wreck and I just got back from the hospital. He had broken 7 bones, and had some internal bleeding. He's now stable, and I'm home, exactly when I was supposed to be.

And I almost forgot the most significant thing that happened while I was gone; I finished Gears of War 2 on Insane that first night I was there with my little brother, and I passed 34,000 GS.

:success:

  • 02.03.2011 9:28 AM PDT
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I was on my way back from trading in a few games for some extra cash, and my dad had to stop at the local Wal-Mart. While we were there, I suddenly had a horrible feeling in my gut. I ran to the nearest bathroom, and quickly got to a toilet. Then it happened. It was as if someone turned on a faucet, or a hose. Nothing was solid in any sense of the word. It kept coming, and coming. After about 5 minutes, it finally let up. I began to wipe, but that must have triggered wave 2.

After another 5 minutes, I felt something odd touching my left cheek. I looked into the bowels of the beast, and realized that the toilet was indeed blocked, and full to the brim with a pool of fecal matter, and an ungodly stench. I took the plunger, and unblocked it, then flushed the whole thing down. This triggered yet another batch of what looked like cookie dough, albeit less solid. After an indeterminable amount of time, a man walked into the bathroom, and proclaimed "Holy f­uck! Oh my God. Holy sh­it, oh Lord Almighty!." he proceeded to cough, then left.

Finally, I managed to finish up, and went to wash my hands. I noticed there was no soap dispenser, so I went to the other side of the store, and found a bathroom with some. After that, I realized that my dad must be waiting on me. I searched the store for a good 10 minutes, before going out to the parking lot to find the car. However, to my disbelief, it was not there.

I rushed back inside, and asked the first person I could find if I could use their cell phone. I got several unhappy looks, before finally getting to use one. My dad didn't answer, so I called my mom, who had to leave work o drive me home. There, I question my dad, and he said that after 40 minutes of waiting, he had to leave, due to milk and eggs, which almost went bad.

Moral of the story: Sh­it happens.

  • 02.03.2011 9:28 AM PDT
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The next two stories are rather old and have poor syntax.

Mr. Jones was obviously in a hurry, as he rushed down the wet sidewalk, carrying his half asleep daughter in one arm, while carrying his case, and the umbrella in the other. He was on his way to drop off his daughter at kindergarten. It was her first day, and he wanted to make sure it was special. He had gotten up early that morning, and prepared an extra special breakfast for her, and made sure her lunchbox was fully of multiple treats.

As they arrived at the school, the rain stopped, but he kept the umbrella up anyways, so as not to disturb Kelly, who had by now fallen asleep from the cool breeze during the storm, and the gentle swaying of her father's shoulder as he walked down the sidewalk. Mr. Jones walked up to the school, and one of the teachers met him at the door.

"Hello, and welcome to Washington Memorial!" She said.

"Uh, hello," Mr. Jones said. "I don't want to disturb her, can you take her please? I've got a very busy day ahead of me. Just got promoted, you see."

The teacher, who Mr. Jones deducted was called Marry due to a nametag, took Kelly in her arms, and went inside, smiling the whole time. Inside, another teacher was taking care of at least a dozen other kids, and saw Kelly asleep. She went out of the main room, into a smaller one down a hallway in the back. She came back a few moments later with a big blanket, and Marry set Kelly down. When Marry leaned back, the other teacher, Sharron, noticed something odd with her clothes.

"Oh my God," Sharron said. "You're bleeding!"

"What?" said Marry, as she looked down at her chest. She then noticed that Kelly also had blood on her shirt. Nervously, Marry took Kelly into another room, and took the girl's shirt off, looking for the source of the blood. What she saw horrified her for but a moment, then nothing, not even a single thought occurred afterwards.

What she saw, was some makeshift stitching, in a long line down her stomach. Blood was now dripping out at a rather quick speed, and there was a strange light coming from inside the girl. In he most horrifyingly long second, of her life, she knew that the girl was not in fact sleeping, but dead. Not only that, bu something was inside her.

She couldn't get another thought through her head, though if she could, she would have yelled to call 911, although she likely already knew that would do nothing. Instead, the only that passed through her head was hot air, and fire, as what was causing the light inside the girl's stomach exploded. The whole school, 27 other 5 year olds and all, exploded into the streets, and the surrounding building, and within a second, everything inside was ripped apart.

A mile away, in some dark alley, Mr. Jones had a smile on his face, as he heard the blast. He dropped something that would soon become a meal to nearby cats, and other animals. Mr. Jones, or the real Mr. Jones, was back at his house, sitting in his favorite chair, watching his favorite channel, while various bugs crawled around the exposed flesh on his head, only 9 hours after a stranger came into his house, cut his face from head, planted a bomb inside his daughter, and then took her dead body to school the following morning.

  • 02.03.2011 9:30 AM PDT
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Adam was walking down the hallway, thinking of his wife, Rachael. They had been married for about a year now, with a kid on the way. He knew that when he got home, his wife would be cooking dinner, and he would plant a kiss on her cheek, and he would then read the news paper.

As he was checking up on the last of the lockers on his way out, he noticed there was liquid spilling out of it, onto the floor. "Damn kids," he thought, as he reached for his keys. When he opened the locker door, he jumped from fright. Inside was a severed head. He clapped his hand to his mouth to keep from yelling, and turned around to run for the nearest phone. As he turned, however, he slammed against another person.

"Who the hell are you?" He asked, quite scared. The man didn't answer, and didn't even seem to take notice of him. Adam turned on his flashlight, and pointed it at the man's head. He almost threw up when he saw this other man's head.

There was no face. The skin had been cut off, revealing the bare flesh underneath. His left eye was hanging by the nerves that attached it to his skull, and half of his lower jaw was gone. The man's hair was drenched in blood, so much so that it was matted against his head, making him look more like a demon than anything else. Adam yelled for help, and tried to run away. Unfortunately, the man grabbed him by his hair, and drew a knife from a flap of loose skin on his arm.

"Let's have some fun, Mr., please?" He said, in a menacing, but almost reassuring voice. Adam screamed as the stranger cut a hole in his stomach, and stuffed a long, bending tube inside. The man kicked Adam to the ground, and vanished into the darkness, leaving him to wonder what had been inserted inside of him.

Adam, screaming in pain, fell to the ground before reaching for his wallet, and more specifically a picture of his wife. As he pulled the picture out, he felt an intense pain like nothing he had ever felt before crawling up through his stomach. He pulled his button-up shirt off, and noticed a horribly disfigured lump working his way up his rotund belly. He screamed in pain, and fear, as a hole appeared at the base of his rib cage, and the head of a baby Anaconda popped out. It hissed at him, as he sat there, gaping at this snake as it crawled from his stomach, as if he was giving birth to it. The snake lunged at his face, ripping into his right eye first, then going for his jugular.

Adam gasped as the snake ripped his throat out, hen curled back up inside of his body, where it would be shielded from the cold night air.

  • 02.03.2011 9:30 AM PDT
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The Plight of Mankind.

  • 02.03.2011 9:31 AM PDT
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Comic strips:

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  • 02.03.2011 9:37 AM PDT
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Artsy-fartsy pictures of me:

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  • 02.03.2011 9:57 AM PDT
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11

  • 02.03.2011 10:12 AM PDT
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12

  • 02.03.2011 10:12 AM PDT
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Listening Disappearing Act by U2.

  • 02.03.2011 5:25 PM PDT
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1. Achtung Baby
2. The Joshua Tree
3. The Unforgettable Fire
4. War
5. All That You Can't Leave Behind
6. Zooropa
7. Boy
8. No Line On The Horizon
9. Pop
10. Rattle And Hum
11. How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb
12. October

  • 02.03.2011 5:28 PM PDT
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Every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief
All kill their inspiration and sing about their grief

  • 02.03.2011 5:29 PM PDT
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I'M A BANANA

  • 02.03.2011 5:41 PM PDT
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I'M A BANANA

  • 02.03.2011 5:42 PM PDT