Let’s just start by stating the absolute obvious. Zombies are everywhere. You can’t even turn on the television without hearing yet ANOTHER story about how some prom or shopping mall somewhere got hit by the endless curse of the ravenous undead, hundreds gnawed, story at motherfucking eleven.

If you see this, you are so very, very fucked.

Who’s gonna help you? Huh? When the Zombies are swarming in the streets, coming through every door and every window in the house, who’s gonna be your fucking superman? The police? The Zombies are chewing the police, pal. In a world gone mad with the undead plague of mutant, mindless, brain-eating Zombie bastards, the only person you can ever rely on is yourself. And believe you me, you do NOT want to let yourself down because you KNOW how you are and you KNOW you’d always hold a grudge that once, just that once, you let yourself down, and it just wasn’t cool of you to do that to yourself. And then, just to add insult to injury, not only will have you let yourself down, but somebody’s decomposing grandmother is eating your goddamned balls. Do you want that? Do you really want to look down and see an eighty-year-old dead woman with maggots in her face savoring the taste of your left testicle?

Of course you don’t. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’ve come to me. You want to live, don’t you? You want to live and have sex and drink beer and not get messily devoured by the living dead, right? Right? Pay very close attention to what I have to say. Failure to memorize each every word will result in the digestion of your brains, I shit you not.

“WELL, GOLLY, XV! AN OUNCE OF ‘THERE AREN’T ANY ZOMBIES HERE’ IS WORTH A POUND OF ‘SWEET MONKEY JESUS, THEY’RE EVERYWHERE!’ SHOULDN’T I HIDE?”

YOU FOOL. You can’t ‘hide’ from them, they will find you. They can smell your sweet, sweet brainmeats, and it brings drool to their decaying faces. The barricades over those doors will only last so long, my friend, do you want to be out of tricks once it goes?

ZOMBIES. ARE. EVERYWHERE.

I found this one in my shoe.

They’re in the cities, in the suburbs and in the countryside. There are Pirate Zombies under the ocean, Frozen Zombies in the Artic, and fucking Space Zombies on the goddamned Moon. If you came to me seeking such simple respite from the endless horrors of the motherfucking Zombie bastards, you are a cowardly fool. Hang your head in shame. Now get me a taco.

That being said, the following Earthly locales known to be completely Zombie-Free are as follows:

• The lava-filled center of an active volcano
• The magma-filled center of the Earth
• My refrigerator.

You’re welcome to try hiding out in Krakatoa or the Earth’s core if you like, but you stay the fuck out of my ‘fridge. That’s MY goddamned cheese.

Every other place in the world is infested with the blood-drenched Undead. You are never safe, no matter where you are or what you’re doing. You could be walking along, minding your own business, you turn a corner, BAM. ZOMBIES. You’re sitting at home, enjoying the latest Sandra Bullock movie, you reach for the popcorn, BUT THERE IS NO POPCORN, ONLY THE ICY HAND OF DEATH. You lift a shell your Aunt Margerite brought home from Hawaii up to your ear to hear the sound of the ocean, BUT THERE IS NO OCEAN, ONLY ZOMBIES. Your life is at risk every second of every day.

“BUT XV! WHY SHOULD I LISTEN TO YOU? AREN’T THERE MORE EXPERIENCED ZOMBIE SURVIVALISTS OUT THERE?”

Bite your goddamned tongue. Didn’t you read what I just wrote? My refrigerator is one of the THREE PLACES ON EARTH that is completely free of Zombies. You think that’s easy? I spent countless years in training and countless more in endless vigilance to pull that off, buddy, so show some respect. As of this moment, Bruce Campbell and I are your only friends in the entire world. But Bruce is out having sex with cheerleaders. So you gotta listen to me. Now, if we’re done asking stupid questions, it’s time we armed the shit out of ourselves.

Worship every square inch of this man. And me. I’m just like him. For one thing, I’m covered with blood right now, too.

“BUT XV! WHATEVER SHALL I ARM MYSELF WITH?”

I’m glad you asked that question. I’m also glad that Futurama is coming back to TV in 2010.  And I’m awfully fond of puppies. But let’s get back to the Zombies.

GUNS

Some people say you can kill the Undead by shooting them in the head. These people are monumentally stupid and shall be among the first to die.

ZOMBIES. ARE . ALREADY. DEAD.

A GUN! GOOD LUCK!

You can’t kill them because they are UN ALIVE. All you can do is slow them down, and a bullet to the head ain’t gonna do that. You want to blow out their knees and knock off their hands – so they can’t chase you or grab you. Knock off their lower jaw with a well-aimed burst and that Zombie ain’t biting nobody no more. I have to say, though, I do not recommend using a gun. Guns and Zombies do NOT fucking mix, boys and girls. Handguns aren’t much against Zombies – even a magnum will just blow big holes, but not much else. Rifles and submachine guns are a little better and a shotgun is just the absolute best thing imaginable, BUT. Guns of any sort require ammunition, and ammunition is FINITE. Zombies are INFINITE. You will eventually run out of ammo, old son. What’cha gonna do when the gun goes ‘click’? You’re gonna get gang-raped by corpses, that’s what you’re gonna do.

HEAVY, BLUDGEONING THINGS

A BAT! HIT SOMETHING!

Novel approach. Grab a cudgel and go to town, break some bones and get IMMEDIATELY SWAMPED, DISSECTED AND INGESTED. What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? You think this is a game? “Swing Away” ain’t gonna cut it this time, Joachim, so just leave the Louisville Slugger at home. If it ain’t a 20-pound sledgehammer, it’s going to get you killed.

CUTTING THINGS

A KNIFE! CUT SOMETHING! NOT YOURSELF!

Now, you’re talking. Zombies have two weaknesses, and one of them is their decomposing bodies that drool bits and pieces of decaying flesh. You apply a good sword or a sturdy axe at the right spot, and the Zombie will go down like an aged French whore every single time. Plus, not only is hacking undead flesh remarkably good exercise, it’s also amazingly fun. Besides, you might get to hack up someone you don’t like!

A sword is good. An axe is great. A chainsaw is fucking splendid. You manage to get your filthy mitts on a two-stroke Stihl ‘saw and you are positively golden for about an hour, when the chainsaw’s gasoline runs out and you die. Horribly.

FLAMING THINGS

A STICK ON FIRE! BURN SOMETHING!

Remember I mentioned two weaknesses? The other one’s how flammable they are. While nothing can actually kill a Zombie, you hit it with a torch and the fucking brain-sucking bastard will go up like a book of matches, flail his arms around, fall over and burn. Zombies don’t ever stop-drop-and-roll. They’re rebels like that.

Now, running around with a torch is a bone-thumpingly stupid idea. That torch WILL go out, Bonny Jim. You want some REAL fire when you’re taking on the Hellish Undead, and I’m talking Molotov cocktails, gasoline cans with fuses sticking out of them, a handful of sparklers or the forum posts of an Idiot Clown Posse fan. A flamethrower is great if you can get one, but remember that that fuel WILL run out, and most likely will somehow explode before it does so. I’ve seen it happen far too often. Stupid kids and their flamethrowers – when will they ever learn?

“OKAY, XV. I HAVE ARMED MYSELF. WHAT NOW?”

How The West Was Hrrrrrrrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

Now you play the waiting game. You must keep those precious, precious implements of mass destructions strapped to your body at all times. You will sleep with your shotgun and shower with your chainsaw, and you will be ever vigilant, ever alert, because at any moment, the Zombies could come and bring a world of painful mastication down on your sorry ass. Let no man or woman take your weaponry from you and if they dare try, kill them a little to show them who’s boss.

Live your entire godforsaken life for that one moment when the Zombies finally emerge and bring their personal brand of stinking hell into your quiet, peaceful little world, and you’ll be glad you did. While your neighbors are getting torn to shreds and messily devoured, you’ll be drinking beers and hacking faces, drenched in the wretched guts of the carnivorous damned, and feeling more alive than you ever have.

“BUT XV! HOW SHALL I KNOW IF I’VE FOUND A ZOMBIE?”

You stupid, stupid fuckbeast. It’s not a red-breasted warbler, IT’S A FUCKING ZOMBIE. Is it eyeing your flesh and drooling in a most unsavory manner? Is its vocabulary limited to “Hrrrnnnnnnn brrraaaaiiiiiiiiiiinsss”? Are all its limbs attached? IS THERE ANY FLESH ON ITS FUCKING FACE?

That’s it. I’ve had it. I tried my best, but you people just won’t listen and you sure as shit won’t learn. You are all hopeless and you are all fucking doomed. I can only hope that at least a little of my wisdom has been passed along, because I can do no more.Guide’s over.

Besides, my fridge ain’t gonna watch itself.