Last night I made some new friends. Two of them I met as they backed a pickup truck up to the fire pit and started throwing wood and various debris out the back. One of them stated he was drunk (it was around 6 pm). There was thrash metal blasting out of the truck's speakers.
Today, while talking with a friend, it was decided that either of these guys would be ideal to have around come the apocalypse. Good with their hands, don't give a fuck. I admitted to being possibly the last person you'd want on your team. All I could offer, I said, would be to write about our exploits if I survived.
My friend agreed. "You could blog about it." Then he composed the following haiku.*
Zombies are not cool
Chasing and biting us all
Oh no! Run away!
*Actually, he composed a far better haiku that neither of us remembers. The above is a poor substitute.
An autobiographical short poem a day (except when I don't).
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