How To Survive A Zombie Apocalypse With Your Cat

I wrote this in my Creative Writing class for our How To Survive assignment.

You awake from the persistent screaming of your 'starving' overweight cat that you have to take to a different vet today because you’re too embarrassed to go back to your original vet. He did warn you about your cat’s path into obesity. Your cat is so fat that it takes all your strength to shove it off the bed. You yawn. You stretch. You ask yourself why your cat had to wake you up this early. You remember the early appointment at the vet office. You can't be mad, even though you are; because you forgot to set your alarm clock. So, you stubbornly crawl out of bed to get ready for your “exciting” day.
At the front door, you lint-roll your cat off your jacket. You toss the roller on the ground, in hope that your blubbery cat will become physical and play. You open the door to the neighborhood in devastation. Glass distributed across yards. Doors completely off hinges. A fire engulf the house on the corner of the street. Even vehicles from a head-on collision are left in the street.
You see your neighbors shambling between the negative spaces of debris. Some had open wounds on their necks, arms, or legs. Others had limbs dangling from threads of flesh. A female in the car wreck was in a mangled mess; wedged between the roof of her car and the pavement. She somehow was still trying to crawl out; twisting her body ways that would be seen in oddity conventions. The whole time you’re gawking, Rob, the gentlemen from across the street that gave you the free kitten years ago, took notice of your lively figure and has been shuffling in a Frankenstein-monster fashion towards you. His arms stretched forward. Red-hue saliva swell in the crease of his lips. You notice a milky-like film over his eyes. His throat is torn out.
Appalled, you turn and run back inside your house. You trip on the lint-roller. You smack face-first on the floor. You chip your tooth. You sulk for a moment in pain. Your cat waddles up and gives you a purring wet-willy with its cold-slimy-nose.
You jump to your feet and slam the door shut. You’re able to lock it before Rob got too close. You clean your bloodied-face. You take a pain-killer and slide down against the front door. Your cat struggles to get into your lap to snuggle. Anxiety fills your head. If you could just get to your junk-of-a-car, you could get somewhere safe. Your cat finally gets into your lap. You decide to stand and peak out the window to survey your front yard. This causes your cat to roll off and wobble as fast as it can to the other room as if frighten. The path to your car looks clear. If, you can take care of Rob.
Now you have a plan. You run to the closet. Grab your aluminum baseball bat. Stuff your car keys into your pocket. Now it’s time to deal with Rob. You unlock the door. Swing it open. Rob takes the same plummet as you did. With this chance, you smash the back of his head in. Adrenaline takes over with multiple unnecessary strikes. Blood and chunks of gunk spew across your floor. Your wall. You. Now’s the time to leave before other dead neighbors notice you. Your cat hooks into your skin when you pick it up to run out to your car.
At your car, shaking from adrenaline, you fumble for the keys. In the struggle, you drop your aluminum bat that clinks and clanks down the driveway. Now the dead commune, with cannibalistic intentions, shamble your direction. It feels like five minutes pass before you get the keys, unlock your car, toss your cat in, start the engine, and try to back out of the driveway.
You back out about half-way before a dozen corpses smack against your car. Only the dead are visible. Your stomach twirls and you feel like barfing up your hopes. This is the end.
The opening you need emerges and you floor it, leaving your fellow dead neighbors in the toxins of your tires. Hope returns. You’re unsure of where you should go now, but you have a feeling that you'll be okay. Your cat squeezes into your lap and meows for food. You forgot to feed it.

Reviews

[The Nude Writer]

Oh wow this is great :) a new totally untouched concept. And bravo to your teacher for assigning it. My creative teacher had us write about avocados.

[Undeadjem]

Thanks! It was very interesting to create. lol. Avacados? That would've been interesting to have seen in class. From a readers and writers perspective. lol.

[The Nude Writer]

It was a group chain story.. We did an Oceans 11 type of Avacado theft story :)

[Undeadjem]

BAHAHA! I would love to read that.

[The Nude Writer]

I wish I still had all that :) my writing was crap then anyhow.. I'm kinda in my prime now