Richter: Your End-Times Instructions.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I lost you at the turnpike.  I DID holler that I was about to make a sharp left and to hold onto the grill, but you were off in your OWN LITTLE WORLD, AS USUAL, so we left you to those bikers.  I see that you found your way home, so I assume that they lubed you up first. See?  Jehovabubba WAS protecting you.

You are not among the faithless types who deserve to be test subjects for students at a proctology school, and you'd probably LIKE it too much, anyway. They use canes & baseball bats & stuff, you know, on people who won't KNEEL STILL.  Call 'em up, see what they pay, put the money in the poor box here at the church. There's still time.

But there's no time for the deluded fools around you.  You and I already knew THAT.  The geeks downstairs are DOOMED, because unlike you, they never stocked up on edged instruments...Which seems like just plain COMMON SENSE if you live in Providence.  When the deal goes down, DO NOT let them flee into the monastery.  There's no way to know if any of them will be infected, and we've all seen Night of the Living Dead, right?  There's always some adorable kid that you just HAVE to rescue, and then they're gnawing on your shin.

No, Richter, there'll be no time for heroics, or even common human decency.  If it looks like the freaks are going to get up the stairs despite the "anvil bomb", you'll just have to drop Ben on them.  Like last time.  Yeah, he gets pissed, but isn't that what friends are FOR?  Besides, he's a big bastard, and ought to knock most of them back down those horrible stairs, leaving a manageable (and fun) amount left for axe practice.

Ben's SO should stay, as long as she can keep the boiling oil buckets hot.  And if Ben can crawl back up the side of the building, THEN give him a blade, and send him to watch the front windows.  The ones that used to be girl scouts can climb like marmosets, and they'll fit right through the bars.  All he has to do is stand on a chair next to the window and wait for them to start struggling through the bars.  Then it's pop goes the weasel.  He's a pretty strong guy, he should be good for hours.

When the sun comes up, make a break for the city limits, and drive like hell.  If you can make it to the state line by 10AM, you should be far enough ahead of the contagion to stop for gas.  I figure it will take you 5 days to get here, but DON'T STOP IN ALBEQUERQUE.  Those fuckers were weird BEFORE all this shit went down.  They are not your friends.

We'll have a bucket of cactus ready for your arrival.

Or Kill Me.

[Luna]

On behalf of the next of kin of the bikers in question, donations to The Incident Cleanup and Funeral Fund can be made through the usual channels.  (Unmarked bills this time, you fuckers.)  Note that, due to the condition of the remains, only one largish grave will be required, as those brave souls who made the attempt to sort out which bits were whose are still gibbering in the corners.

My own plan for the End Times is simple, get my ass to the Monestary, pray like hell the rations I bring are sufficient to get me admittance without a machete somewhere I don't want it, and party.  The zombies may eat us all, but, by all that is Holy, they'll pay before they dine.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

On behalf of the next of kin of the bikers in question, donations to The Incident Cleanup and Funeral Fund can be made through the usual channels.  (Unmarked bills this time, you fuckers.)  Note that, due to the condition of the remains, only one largish grave will be required, as those brave souls who made the attempt to sort out which bits were whose are still gibbering in the corners.

My own plan for the End Times is simple, get my ass to the Monestary, pray like hell the rations I bring are sufficient to get me admittance without a machete somewhere I don't want it, and party.  The zombies may eat us all, but, by all that is Holy, they'll pay before they dine.

Zombies?  What zombies?  It's republican caucus time.  You WISH it was zombies.

[Luna]

On behalf of the next of kin of the bikers in question, donations to The Incident Cleanup and Funeral Fund can be made through the usual channels.  (Unmarked bills this time, you fuckers.)  Note that, due to the condition of the remains, only one largish grave will be required, as those brave souls who made the attempt to sort out which bits were whose are still gibbering in the corners.

My own plan for the End Times is simple, get my ass to the Monestary, pray like hell the rations I bring are sufficient to get me admittance without a machete somewhere I don't want it, and party.  The zombies may eat us all, but, by all that is Holy, they'll pay before they dine.

Zombies?  What zombies?  It's republican caucus time.  You WISH it was zombies.

There's a difference?  Shambling, bloated, drooling, droning on and on endlessly about a single topic...  Okay, pretty sure zombies don't use mobility scooters, you've got me, there... but those ones won't be able to pry their asses out of the scooters to get up the stairs, right?  RIGHT?

[Richter]

I lost you at the turnpike.  I DID holler that I was about to make a sharp left and to hold onto the grill, but you were off in your OWN LITTLE WORLD, AS USUAL, so we left you to those bikers.  I see that you found your way home, so I assume that they lubed you up first. See?  Jehovabubba WAS protecting you.

You are not among the faithless types who deserve to be test subjects for students at a proctology school, and you'd probably LIKE it too much, anyway. They use canes & baseball bats & stuff, you know, on people who won't KNEEL STILL.  Call 'em up, see what they pay, put the money in the poor box here at the church. There's still time.

ANY Program.

But there's no time for the deluded fools around you.  You and I already knew THAT.  The geeks downstairs are DOOMED, because unlike you, they never stocked up on edged instruments...Which seems like just plain COMMON SENSE if you live in Providence.  When the deal goes down, DO NOT let them flee into the monastery.  There's no way to know if any of them will be infected, and we've all seen Night of the Living Dead, right?  There's always some adorable kid that you just HAVE to rescue, and then they're gnawing on your shin.

No, Richter, there'll be no time for heroics, or even common human decency.  If it looks like the freaks are going to get up the stairs despite the "anvil bomb", you'll just have to drop Ben on them.  Like last time.  Yeah, he gets pissed, but isn't that what friends are FOR?  Besides, he's a big bastard, and ought to knock most of them back down those horrible stairs, leaving a manageable (and fun) amount left for axe practice.

Ben's SO should stay, as long as she can keep the boiling oil buckets hot.  And if Ben can crawl back up the side of the building, THEN give him a blade, and send him to watch the front windows.  The ones that used to be girl scouts can climb like marmosets, and they'll fit right through the bars.  All he has to do is stand on a chair next to the window and wait for them to start struggling through the bars.  Then it's pop goes the weasel.  He's a pretty strong guy, he should be good for hours.

When the sun comes up, make a break for the city limits, and drive like hell.  If you can make it to the state line by 10AM, you should be far enough ahead of the contagion to stop for gas.  I figure it will take you 5 days to get here, but DON'T STOP IN ALBEQUERQUE.  Those fuckers were weird BEFORE all this shit went down.  They are not your friends.

We'll have a bucket of cactus ready for your arrival.

Or Kill Me.

You are a gracious and welcoming host, in a way that would make Tipper Gore loose the will to live.  Now, my brain is shot after a day of driving.  After 5 days of pell-mell chaos with Luna popping off 9mm, and Dimo running a cheap African AK from the lawn chair on the roof, a bucket of that stuff is the only way any person could be expected to adjust.  (We tried to find LMNO, but the silly bastard rode into the fabulous sunset before we could convince him otherwise.)

Dad told me the same thing once, in so many words.  Get your own ass out.  Get your buddies out if you can.  Any means necessary, and everyone else is "under the bus" material.  (and then that "Wasting lives" vs. "Spending lives" problem, had to learn that crap on my own.)  It's worth hauling across continents to link up with the worthwhile folks.  Knowign how things go around here, three will show up ready to play with a hard on for the necessary violence, and the rest will text saying "I'm too tired.". 

Just like Friday night fight practice.

(ps. To be fair, not everyone can stomach practicing the violence 4-5 times a week.)
(ps. 

[The Good Reverend Roger]

On behalf of the next of kin of the bikers in question, donations to The Incident Cleanup and Funeral Fund can be made through the usual channels.  (Unmarked bills this time, you fuckers.)  Note that, due to the condition of the remains, only one largish grave will be required, as those brave souls who made the attempt to sort out which bits were whose are still gibbering in the corners.

My own plan for the End Times is simple, get my ass to the Monestary, pray like hell the rations I bring are sufficient to get me admittance without a machete somewhere I don't want it, and party.  The zombies may eat us all, but, by all that is Holy, they'll pay before they dine.

Zombies?  What zombies?  It's republican caucus time.  You WISH it was zombies.

There's a difference?  Shambling, bloated, drooling, droning on and on endlessly about a single topic...  Okay, pretty sure zombies don't use mobility scooters, you've got me, there... but those ones won't be able to pry their asses out of the scooters to get up the stairs, right?  RIGHT?

Demo Squid built bodies for them.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

(and then that "Wasting lives" vs. "Spending lives" problem, had to learn that crap on my own.)

Yeah, but that was easy.  SPENDING lives is what AMERICA does, and WASTING lives is what AMERICANS do.