When the zombie apocalypse began, the first thought that came to my mind was “Ugh… this sucks.” My second thought: “Hide your kids, hide your wife, and hide your husband ’cause they eating everyone’s brains up in here.” Third thought: “Well, at least I’ll get to go commando on some zombies.”
Nope. Within the first few days of the virus’s outbreak, I became infected. Did a zombie bite me after I heroically saved my roommates from a barrage of zombies? No. Did I contract it sexually from a zombie sorority chick? No. I double-bagged it to be safe.
Here’s what happened: in preparation for a late night doing problem sets, I drank the rest of a Red Bull I left in the common room refrigerator. Unbeknownst to me, some asshole took a sip from it, even though my name was clearly written on the sticky note attached to it and there are rules about not taking other people’s stuff from the fridge. YOU HEAR THAT KEITH? IT’S A DOUCHE MOVE TO TAKE PEOPLE’S STUFF FROM THE FRIDGE! So anyways, I was infected by sharing a can of Red Bull. It’s not a hyperbole, that shit can literally turn you into a zombie.
I’ve faced a lot of hardships here at college because of my condition, even with the recent passage of the Zombie Anti-Discrimination Act and the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Eat Brains. As a wise frog once said, “It’s not easy being green.”
Becoming a zombie really changed my outlook on life. Before, I always thought that I wanted to be an engineer, but just recently, I became very interested in brains, so I switched my major to neuroscience. The problem is that I just can’t pay attention in any of my classes. Talking about brains just makes me too hungry. It doesn’t help that all of my professors hate me because sometimes in the middle of lectures I’ll go all zombie-tourette’s and yell out “BRAAIIINS!”
So my academics have suffered, but what about my social life? You’d think that by definition, being a creature of the night would mean that I have a great nightlife, but no, I don’t. Let’s just say that the smell of rotting flesh may attract some animals, but not humans. And the dining halls don’t accommodate my dietary restrictions. Sure, they have vegetarian, vegan, kosher, and halal options, but they don’t even bother to satisfy the needs of the zombie population! Some BS about cannibalism being immoral or something. I’ll tell you what’s immoral: BEING A DOUCHEBAG AND TAKING A SIP FROM MY RED BULL IN THE REFRIGERATOR!
Dick move, Keith.
– Matthew Solis ’14
