Trust the Ferret, the Ferret is Wise

For years, we'd all joked about what to do if there was a zombie apocalypse. We'd planned out escape routes, figured out where'd have the best weapons and toughest doors, all that kind of jazz bored nerds do when they're sitting around after watching a zombie movie. Secretly we all hoped we'd be the badass who's the last guy to die, but honestly, we were probably all the guy who'd get eaten in the first half of the film.

I guess I took it more seriously. When I heard, I actually had a plan. There's forests out back, with hunter's nests. Nice comfy ones, some of them. Nobody else was home, but we had a hatchet in the basement, and I didn't even bother with the .22, 'cause there's no way I'd be a good enough shot to hit anything important with that. And then I ran out back and up the tree and pulled up the ladder, and waited for the zombie hordes.

Gunshots died down after a couple of hours. I waited a couple hours longer, but it started to rain and there weren't gunshots or moans for brains. So honestly, why bother?

The house was intact. Just fine, really. And the internet still worked. So here we are.

Turns out we didn't have hardly any recent corpses around here. And rednecks have guns. Apparently, deep down in one of those cabinets full of contingency plans, right between plans to invade Brazil and to deal with the arrival of Superman, was a plan for dealing with a zombie apocalypse.

Guess it worked. Huh. Figures I'd miss all the fun.