" All aboard the apocolypse machine"
As you can imagine, staying up uber late to groom XC ski trails can begin to toy with your mind. Deprived of sleep, drowned in coffee and listening to broadcasts of the parinormal on Coast to Coast it was inevitable that at some point Andrew (fellow grommer) and myself would begin a hot topic debat about surviving a zombie apocolypse.
One might think that such a conversation is rediculous and some what geeky, but let me ensure you that being prepared is the best policy weather it is to survive a natural disaster or a zombie apocolypse. Many ideas floated about the inside of the groomer as we pushed forward on our daily mission to create and maintain the best ski trails around.
We both agreed on a few key points about surviving said zombies. 1) Gather supplies, weapons, food, clothing, fuel etc. 2) Make your way to a place with a small population, i.e. some far Northeren commuity. The reason is smaller population equals smaller zombie population.
It was at this point that we began to disagree. You see Andrew believes that the groomer, which is an amazing machine with tracks (go over anything) a big plow blade (push zombies out of way) and a tiller (chew zombies up) would make the best machine to be in to survive an apocolyps. I however disagree. I believe that by being in said machine your fate is to become a canned food of sorts for zombies to feed on.
My game plan is as follows: Pay attention to the news, when strange occurences begin, people eating other people get a flight to Nepal. Gather supplies and begin a trek to the highest base camp on Mount Everst. Outside of a few zombie sherpas you should be ok. You will however have to venture into a village to gather more supplies, but lets face it my friends, that is the weak link in every survival plan, when dealing with zombies, hungry for brains.
It was at this point that we stubulled up an alien. Luckily not a zombie because we have no agreed upon course of action and we figured that aliens are far safer. So we picked him up and he groomed with us for the rest of the evening. He was a quite delightful fellow who had a slight obsession with the 80's pop culture. We asked his opinion, his response was as follows
" if either of you ever want to get laid again I would suggest that you stop talking about zombies. Whats next guys a little Dungeons and Dragons, how about some japenese comic books. Why the fuck are you two talking about zombies anyway, fuck you guys are nerds, jesus christ! You know what just let me the fuck out. There is no way I am going to ride along with a couple of fucking weirdos who are A) up at 2am and B) talking crazy shit. Why don't you go home, get laid, dring a beer and shut the fuck up"
He was an angry little man, but he had a point. So we let him out, we watched as he walked off into the bush all the while flipping us the bird.
The moral here is, nothing, there is no point to this story. No lesson not a god damn thing. I am tired, oh so tired and need to sleep and apparently get laid according to the alien Mr. T.
I guess the lesson then is to get laid, often and frequently, then maybe you won't find yourself talking about zombies.
Peace and love
As you can imagine, staying up uber late to groom XC ski trails can begin to toy with your mind. Deprived of sleep, drowned in coffee and listening to broadcasts of the parinormal on Coast to Coast it was inevitable that at some point Andrew (fellow grommer) and myself would begin a hot topic debat about surviving a zombie apocolypse.
One might think that such a conversation is rediculous and some what geeky, but let me ensure you that being prepared is the best policy weather it is to survive a natural disaster or a zombie apocolypse. Many ideas floated about the inside of the groomer as we pushed forward on our daily mission to create and maintain the best ski trails around.
We both agreed on a few key points about surviving said zombies. 1) Gather supplies, weapons, food, clothing, fuel etc. 2) Make your way to a place with a small population, i.e. some far Northeren commuity. The reason is smaller population equals smaller zombie population.
It was at this point that we began to disagree. You see Andrew believes that the groomer, which is an amazing machine with tracks (go over anything) a big plow blade (push zombies out of way) and a tiller (chew zombies up) would make the best machine to be in to survive an apocolyps. I however disagree. I believe that by being in said machine your fate is to become a canned food of sorts for zombies to feed on.
My game plan is as follows: Pay attention to the news, when strange occurences begin, people eating other people get a flight to Nepal. Gather supplies and begin a trek to the highest base camp on Mount Everst. Outside of a few zombie sherpas you should be ok. You will however have to venture into a village to gather more supplies, but lets face it my friends, that is the weak link in every survival plan, when dealing with zombies, hungry for brains.
It was at this point that we stubulled up an alien. Luckily not a zombie because we have no agreed upon course of action and we figured that aliens are far safer. So we picked him up and he groomed with us for the rest of the evening. He was a quite delightful fellow who had a slight obsession with the 80's pop culture. We asked his opinion, his response was as follows
" if either of you ever want to get laid again I would suggest that you stop talking about zombies. Whats next guys a little Dungeons and Dragons, how about some japenese comic books. Why the fuck are you two talking about zombies anyway, fuck you guys are nerds, jesus christ! You know what just let me the fuck out. There is no way I am going to ride along with a couple of fucking weirdos who are A) up at 2am and B) talking crazy shit. Why don't you go home, get laid, dring a beer and shut the fuck up"
He was an angry little man, but he had a point. So we let him out, we watched as he walked off into the bush all the while flipping us the bird.
The moral here is, nothing, there is no point to this story. No lesson not a god damn thing. I am tired, oh so tired and need to sleep and apparently get laid according to the alien Mr. T.
I guess the lesson then is to get laid, often and frequently, then maybe you won't find yourself talking about zombies.
Peace and love
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