In The Likely, Implausible, Pending, No-Chance-In-Hell, Definitely Happening Event of a Zombie Attack...

My break-neck, torn-throat analysis of horrible locations to hole up and wait for rescue.

PART II. The Remote Farmhouse....

At first glance, this peaceful paragon of agricultural nostalgia may seem like the perfect hideaway for a family of surviving renegades. There are often stores of food, possibly even cattle, fields that can be cultivated and tended in times of low zombie occurrence, but what about all those zombie farm cats? Farm cats breed like zombie farm rabbits and who's to say that cats will be immune to the aggressive viral outbreak...or the cattle for that matter? So while you're battening up the windows and doors and combing the endless intrinsically creepy cornfields with grandma Nan's greasy pair of American Gothic binoculars, don't let your backend get the bull's horn, or forget to disinfect a vicious cat scratch from Fluffy who is really only somewhat fluffy anymore. Even if the animals and livestock don't get you, there will inevitably be some reason--no matter how you fight it--some crisis, some unrealistic desire, which causes the irrational need to send one or more members of the party into the barn. Even in times of Zombie-free living, this is a bad idea. And since this generation has dispensed with real education and learns all there is to know from movies and wikipedia, you would think that everyone would understand that if there isn't a zombie waiting behind the barn door, or in the farm equipment, or in the hay loft...a deranged serial killer will be. Therefore, I say no to Farmhouses. Find somewhere else to hide, and leave the zombie farm cats to chase the zombie farm mice until the zombie farm cows come home and die….again.



Next time.......The Mall (Just in time to do a little Christmas chopping!)