[ WP ] Always ready for the zombie apocalypse , you 're dismayed that it occurred and was resolved while you were asleep .

Brandon woke up from his coma in an empty hospital. `` Hello?!'' The halls were empty, lit only by the daylight pouring through open windows. `` Is anybody here?!'' Atrophied, he considered sitting on an abandoned wheelchair but changed his mind; he needed to prove himself capable. `` Can anyone hear me?!'' Brandon was sure he'd seen this exact same situation play out in at least two or three movies. `` Is this real life?!'' He was getting antsy. *Real* antsy. 
 
 The streets were empty except for several decomposing bodies amid abandoned, gridlocked cars. `` Oh, please tell me this is zombies,'' he whispered to himself. For the past decade, Brandon had been a self-described professional zombie survivalist, much to the annoyance of friends and relatives. 
 
 Then he saw what he had hoped for: A building with handwritten sign draped over the roof. `` HELP! LIVING INSIDE! NOT ZOMBIES!'' Brandon pumped his fist in excitement. He had dreamed of this. He'd become the alpha male. He would rescue Cassandra, and she would finally let him call her Cassie. Plus surely sex stuff, which had been completely out of the question considering she always thought he was creepy. Brandon could already see himself letting her boyfriend Ron get eaten alive. Fuck Ron. Brandon + Cassie 4ever. There was a wailing electric guitar solo playing in his head. 
 
 He absentmindedly palmed his left butt cheek. The hospital gown was loose, and prior to his coma he had always carried The Zombie Bible in his back pocket. `` No matter,'' he thought; he practically had it memorized. This was going to be a cakewalk. 
 
 Brandon knelt in front of a decomposing zombie corpse, shoved his hands into the bloated gut, and began lathering his body in its foul organs. Smelling like a zombie is paramount to survival when out in the open. He valiantly swallowed back some vomit. He's brave and all that jazz, but... well... he was n't expecting so many maggots. 
 
 Freshly unfreshened ( and still gagging a little ) he was onto the next pressing matter: *Weapons*. Rifles, shotguns, RPGs, chainsaws or flamethrowers would do well. Brandon could see a weapon shop at the far end of the street, but that was no good; weapon shops would be picked clean by now. Instead, Brandon turned his attention to a school bus. Kids these days have more weapons than a Middle Eastern wedding. After tirelessly rummaging through a bus full of heavy backpacks, Brandon had to make due with a mechanical pencil. He pumped it a couple of times and sharpened the tip on some paper for an extra bit of deadliness. The sun is setting; this will have to do for now. 
 
 It's time to make his way to Cassandra's home, deduce her whereabouts through cunning logic, and rescue her from the strong, undead hands of *fucking* Ron. Brandon stealthily weaved his way through the messy downtown streets, stopping from time to time to smear more carcass on himself. Her home in the suburbs was a few miles away, but taking a car would attract too much attention. Luckily, the journey was made easier when he found an abandoned fixie bicycle. The thin tires, lack of brakes and shock absorbers made it rather uncomfortable. Though not as bad as the fact he sometimes forgot the seat had broken off. Still, he made it to her surprisingly peaceful neighborhood rather quickly. 
 
 Brandon could see some houses with the lights still on. `` What a waste of power in the zombie apocalypse,'' he thought. `` They must've died with the lights on.'' 
 
 Finally he made it to her apartment. It appeared abandoned. Brandon approached the front door and found an old note. `` Mom, dad. If you find this, i'm at rons.'' Brandon crumpled the paper tightly within his itchy fist. His house was across town and the fixie's thin-ass front tire had already deflated. 
 
 `` HEY YOU!'' Someone yelled from across the street. `` Are you a zombie?!'' 
 
 Brandon turned around. Another survivor emerged with a pistol at his waist. `` Do n't yell,'' Brandon yelled back, `` it'll attract zombies!'' 
 
 `` Jesus, man, you look like shit!'' Behind the man was a mob of women with even more guns. `` Are you looking for Cassie?! She's at Ron's mansion! You need me to call them up?!'' 
 
 This bit of news made Brandon's blood boil and his skin itch. Although perhaps the itchy skin was more due to glazing himself in rotting blood. `` Mansion?'' 
 
 `` Stay right there!'' The cautious man pulled his cell phone out. As did a few women behind him, in fact. `` Hey, buddy, they're actually driving close by! They'll be here in a minute!'' 
 
 Brandon looked the guy over. He did n't appear all that manly, but he was practically surrounded by beautiful women in this dangerous zombie apocalypse. This both made him hopeful and a little jealous. `` If you do n't mind me asking... guy... what happened?! I've been in a coma,'' Brandon yelled from across the street, still. 
 
 `` Ah,'' the man exclaimed while adjusting his horn-rim glasses. `` That explains a lot!'' He was specifically referring to Brandon apparently being covered in shit. `` There was a zombie apocalypse! It was real bad for a while, but it sort of resolved itself! Zombies were really slow. They're pretty much all gone now. It, uh. It only infected men, so the world's male population dropped like 96 %! According to the news on TV, I mean! Seems like a bigger drop to me! Most people moved out of this town, though.'' 
 
 This was both good news and bad news for Brandon. But before he could fully digest it, a huge monster truck came roaring up to Cassandra's house. Ron poked his handsome head out of the window; fuck that guy. `` Holy shit, man, what the hell happened to you?'' 
 
 Cassandra peeked over Ron's lap. `` Brian?'' 
 
 `` Brandon,'' Brandon corrected her once more, nonchalantly. `` What's up?'' All this was making him much more itchy, but he restrained himself. 
 
 `` OH! Zombie guy! Cassie, that's the zombie apocalypse guy!'' Ron turned to Brandon and his face became concerned, `` Dude, are you infected? You look like shit.'' 
 
 `` Idiot,'' thought Brandon internally. He replied out loud, `` no, this is *stealth*. I blended in with zombies by rubbing myself in zombie juice.'' Brandon could n't help but feel a little cocky. `` I did n't know zombies were already extinct.'' 
 
 He could hear Cassandra from within the truck calling to Ron, `` babe, let's go. I do n't feel comfortable.'' 
 
 `` Wait,'' Ron turned back to Brandon. `` You WHAT? You can only get infected by touching their blood. Dude...'' he paused. `` Are you *itchy*?'' 
 
 Brandon really wanted to scratch himself now. `` What? Pssht! No! Of course not. You're crazy.'' 
 
 `` Look, dude, I do n't know where you want to go. But if we see you lumbering over to our mansion, we're shooting you. Got it?'' Ron disappeared into his car, revved the engine and peeled out. The truck disappeared around a far corner. 
 
 Across the street, the neighbor made a gun with his fingers and imaginary-blasted Brandon as a warning. He and the women disappeared into their home. 
 
 Brandon stood there for a moment. He scratched his bare ass as he let his thoughts settle in the cold night. `` Fuck Ron,'' he murmured as he hopped onto his seatless fixie bike and rode into the darkness. *Fuck Ron*, indeed. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Thank you for the fun prompt.
