Desperate Times

If you'd told me two days ago that I'd be sitting here with my paranoid neighbour while he casually fired shotgun rounds into the crowd that was ambling across his lawn, I would've thought you mad.

Instead, it's the world that's gone mad, and as my neighbour tries to keep the zombies at bay, the dozens of weapons that line his walls are somehow more comforting, and less disturbing, than before.

"There's one thing I don't understand," I said. "How did you know about the zombies before I did?"

"Zombies?" he asked, as he reloaded and fired again. "What zombies?"