[ WP ] After 10 long years of being dead , you wake up alive on the night of the zombie apocalypse . One problem . Your coffin wo n't open .

Leave it to me to be late for the end of the world. 
 
 Growing up in a Japanese family, born to a father who's trade was clockmaking, punctuality was promised to me as the path to success. I died poor and it is no wonder as to how to my family. My mother taught me that time was precious and not to wasted. I try to forget the irony of my situation as my desiccated limbs fail to free my corpse from my buried tomb. 
 
 It was paid for by the state. My affairs, of course, were not in order when I met my demise. If it were not for the clumsy steps of my zombied brethren over head echoing into my coffin - I swear I could focus. Though, who am I kidding? This coffin is to caskets what government issued humvees are to bicycles. Overburdened and under designed. I am destined to life after death under the live dead with all the thanks to the undertaker who took my case under the earth. Too loud. Thoughts too fast. 
 
 So hungry. I'm coming. I may need more time. I have all the time in the world, and I found a way to be late.
