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The Walking Carl: Chapter 4

Dear Diary,

Oh my God, diary, you are not going to believe what just happened.  I wish I could tell people, but all they’ll focus on is how I hotwired an ATV I found on a farm and sorta drove 50 miles down the road.  But for real, I totally found the zombie Stephen Hawking, it was amazing. The Hawking Dead! I wish there was anyone around to appreciate how clever that is.  Took me like 15 minutes to think of it.

So anyway, I was just doing some offroading on legless zombies (the popping sound is kind of relaxing) and shooting off some fireworks I found while listening to Flight of the Valkyries on this old gramophone I looted from a house and the whole thing was pretty surreal, and then I see something coming down the street towards me.  At first I was freaked out and thought it was some survivors, God knows what trouble they can cause, but when it got closer I realized it was a zombie in a wheelchair.  His battery must have been taking a beating because he was lurching along really slowly, but the crazy thing was when he finally saw me the computer voice on the chair was the one that moaned at me.  Isn’t that insane?  It was all “mwaaaagghh!” but in that cool, electronic voice.   I shot him with a Roman candle.  It looked something like this;

All last week everyone was debating moving to someplace new but my dad kept yelling “Ricktatorship, bitches!” and swinging around this mace he made out of an old Louisville Slugger and a softball with some nails in it.  He’s just this side of batshit crazy but he focuses a lot of positive energy on me, so that’s cool.  It’s just everyone else he hates.

Dad seems to love mom still, but it’s like how much can you love mom?  It’s like a dog you’ve had for years that poops on the floor all the time.  You still love it and it’s great and all but damn, cut that shit out.  I told that to Mr. Herschel and he said it was very offensive but, in fairness, Mr. Herschel kept his zombie wife in the barn in case she got better so that dude’s not really in a position to question anyone.  He’s about as clever a tube sock filled with ham salad.

I almost asked everyone the other day what they think they’re doing.  I mean really, say we find somewhere to go that’s awesome, it has waterslides and video games and a McDonalds.  Then what?  Everyone in the world who dies comes back and tries to eat you.  That’s worse than living in a country with rabid monkeys. Plus when a rabid monkey bites you you just have the dignity to die painfully.  When a zombie bites you you die, come back as a zombie and bite someone else.  That’s ridiculous.  I just don’t see what we’re moving towards.  It’s not like we’re going to rebuild society or find out that Idaho has an anti-zombie forcefield and nothing ever changed there.  Besides, even if that was true, we’d just be in Idaho.  That’s where zombies come from, I think.

Daryl is the only one who seems to really hold on to some admirable negativism.  I heard him tell my mom she’s a dip wad for trying to use our drinking water to wash a sweater.  Dip wad.  It was so hard not to laugh.  I think he’s only with us because where else are you going to go?  I’ve been as far as anyone and every place around here sucks.  Plus no one has mentioned it yet, but you have no idea what the world smells like right now.  Just because these zombies are up and walking around doesn’t mean they’re not rotting and they sure as hell aren’t using deodorant.  The whole place smells like the alley behind KFC on a summer’s day, just awful.  It’s getting to the point now where, if someone farts, we all try to scootch a little closer to catch a whiff.  That’s the world we live in now.

Anyway diary, I have to run.  It’s almost dinner and I think we’re having squirrel kebabs with some roots that Glenn found.  Yes, it’s as delicious as it sounds.  No worries though, I found a couple cases of Doritos, so I’m good.  But I have to put in an appearance.  If I’m not there at meal times, you can guess what happens.

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