Hear ye, hear ye!
I have nothing more to say!
Well, actually, I do, because otherwise I wouldn't be writing this.
It's just I try to start each post with a line that begins with H then a line that begins with I. So it spells HI. Like a double-direction greeting. Actually, that's pretty sad.
Anyway, today was another one of those not much to do days. Five hours of work. Now time for rest... Nothing exciting... Sorry!
Although, I did hear about this crazy story today... No idea whether it's true or not, but apparently they found a survivor outside last night. Outside outside. He was supposedly drenched in blood and banging on the gates at about three in the morning, shouting 'I'm not infected, I'm not infected' until people came out and let him in...
Weird, right?
He wasn't even armed, that's the strange bit. It seems he had managed to fight his way out of central London using his bare hands and had made it all the way here. Without a weapon. This guy... had managed to take on millions of zombies in the capital, which is positively crawling with them, using only his fists and come out of it alive, or so the story goes.
Seriously.
Is that even possible?
On top of that, according to my friend, he can't remember anything about the apocalypse. He's just... appeared...
What on earth has he been doing until now? How can he have missed this outbreak armageddon? Has he been living under a rock for the past nineteen years (which is, in fact, a good way to stay alive nowadays)? Has he just woken up from a coma or something?
Whatever the explanation, I'm going to have to meet this guy, if he exists, and ask him to teach me how to fend off the undead if they ever get within biting range. Because that is just too epic.
That's the kind of thing you see in films. Used to see in films.
You know, this tale has inspired me. I don't care if it's not true. I don't care if a survivor made it up as a joke. I want to be that amazing one day.
Right. I've decided. I'm going to do Badminton tomorrow...
It's a start.
REMAIN INDOORS