#routine nightmare

Is your life like mine, where it's on repeat mode over and over again? Do you often feel that your plotline in life is similar to that Bill Murray movie, Groundhog Day, where a single day is looped continuously without end? Perhaps, you, like me, feel your life is nothing more than repetitive routines.

           On a given day, I wake up, get ready for work, work, get off work, unwind a little bit, and then head for bed to rest so I can wake up the next day and repeat the same routine…

           That's my life, folks. A simple life, for a simple man, I guess. But, I do have a story to tell. A yarn that begs no yawns. Be warned though, this bizarre tale is not for the faint of heart. It will chill the bone, ignite wonder, but will not delight. You see, out of my entire existence of routine normalcy, there was that one single moment that took me by surprise. And that moment leads to an assortment of events that evolved into a completely different set of routines. If I had known what I was in store for that day ahead of time, I probably would have called-in at work. But here I am rambling…let’s get on with it, shall we…?

           It starts like any other repetitious day…but don't they all, right?

           11 A.M. rolls by, and my cell phone alarm goes off. I blurt out, "fuck," to myself, as I always do after the sudden awareness that I must get up, get ready, and get to work.

           I drive to the parking lot of my employer (oh, forgot to mention, I am a grocery clerk at Dime-a-Dozen), and as always – people craze over that one single parking spot. I hate-hate (hate!) it when someone waits for that holy parking spot with their annoying blinker on, indicating that spot is theirs, and they will defend it for dear life. In their brain, it's QUICKER to wait for a parking spot, park, rather than park at a spot a few spots farther from the store.   Ignorance/arrogance is bliss, especially when they block all the other drivers.

           Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. My daily routine as follows:

           -Parking spot.

           -Walk in.

           -Being obnoxiously greeted by the greeter.

           -Walk to the wall clock to punch in.

           -Punch in.

           -Co-worker walking by, obnoxiously declaring this place is like 'paradise' for the 1000000th time.

           -Another co-worker saying, 'another day, another dollar' for the 6000000000000th time, as she walks by.

           -My own boss saying, 'doesn't get better than this' for the 90000000000000000000000000th time, as he hands out work assignments. Mind you, these are the same work assignments handed out DAILY.

           -And the day proceeds with the same customers that ask the same questions they asked yesterday, last week, last month, and last year. And mind you, the answers haven't really changed all that much since the last time they asked it.

As I said, my life is on repeat mode. It's as if I am starring in my own classic sitcom, reliving those same moments over and over and over and over [I think you get the point] and over again!

           Eight hours of the same-shit-different-day routine later, I walk out of the store with exhaustion from answering the same damn

           [water is located in aisle five, right-hand side]

           [sorry sir, we don't have any in the back]

           [aisle eleven, ma'am]

           [sorry, sir…]

           [aisle 15]

           questions.

I walk toward my car with my car key in my hand. I insert the key into the keyhole when a strange woman walks toward me.

           "Pardon me sir," she starts to ask and then coughs spit into my face. I wipe her spit off my face and notice it was actually blood.

           "Can you give me a ride to my sick mother at the Beaumont Hospital in Royal Oak? My car broke down, and I don't have any cash on me," the woman asks. She looks to be in her mid-30s. Her face looks dirty, her eyes dilated. She looks high.

           Now, pause for a moment.

           There are two types of people in the world. Some are good hearted and will give a helping hand to strangers. And some are good hearted but are selective with their helping hand. I am part of the latter group. This woman appears to be a junkie. And if I give her a helping hand, what if she pulls a knife or a gun, and jacks my car. So, my immediate response…

           "Sorry ma'am. Got other plans."

           I know. I am a dick!

           A look of disappointment fills her face. She walks away and heads to another person, trying to con a ride out of them. I get into the car and lock the doors in case she comes back.

           I know. I am a paranoid dick!

           I start the engine and drive off. I notice the woman appears to have found a sucker a few cars from where I was parked. And as a matter of fact, she was sucking on the poor dude's neck. Actually, it looks like she’s eating this dude. But it was a long day. Your eyes pull tricks on you from afar when you are tired. Lady found a ride and is showing gratitude. Me, I am off to la-la land so I can repeat this day, the next day.

 11. A.M.

           I wake up with the sweet sound of my alarm. "Fuck," I whisper. I get up, get ready, and get to work. As I was approaching the parking lot, I notice it’s sort of dead. In fact, it is dead. Not a single car in sight. As a matter of fact, not a single car on the road.

           I get into the building with no greeter. No customers. No co-workers. No people at all. It is deserted. I walk through the center aisle and hear a noise from the meat department to my right. I head over there through aisle seven, and I witness something disturbing. One female customer is munching into another female customer's stomach on the ground as if there is a KFC platter dish right in front of her. The blood, intestines, guts pouring out of this poor woman makes me sick to my stomach with the yummy taste of vomit in my mouth. And that scent. My god, that aroma is unbearable. Imagine salt, vomit, feces, and leftover chicken from last month, all mixed together in a blender. Not pleasant to be around.

           I run out of there and into the sporting good section. I eye the guns hidden in the glass display.

           "Hmmm…" I ponder to myself.

           I was never quite keen on guns. I am actually for gun control, to be honest. But when you see something as fucked up as a person chowing down on another person in front of you, you act accordingly. I find a baseball bat nearby, and use it to break the glass display. I take whatever gun I find, put some bullets in it, and run back to the meat department. Woman A is still consuming Woman B. I shoot Woman A. Woman A goes down. I shoot her several more times, making sure she doesn't get that last cheap scare. I approach her more closely and take a look. I recognize her. She is one of the regulars that always come in. Kind of sucks that she has to die at a place like this: Retail Hell. There are so many better places to die.

           I walk away from the deader-than-dead woman and head toward the liquor aisle. I walk through the aisle and spot my favorite drink. Captain Morgan, baby. I salute the captain, take it off the shelf, and start drinking away. I don't think I am working today. I could check the backroom, but business seems a bit slow.

           And to think: I was looking forward to my repetitive routine. In fact, I almost forget about my routine. Right about now, some co-worker would be coming up to me and saying, 'this is paradise.’

           Indeed it is, asshole!

I walk out of my now, old employer, and look on to the vacant parking lot. A zombie of some sort, a young boy with blood gushing out of his mouth, limps toward me. I aim my cheap gun at the boy and shoot. I make a badass face as I shoot the poor bastard. You know? The same look that is shown on someone who shoots a gun in the movies! The, 'I am f'n badass – don't f' with me f' face!'

           I go back to see if my family is okay, but there is no sign of them at all. Maybe it's for the best. I don't know how I would feel about shooting loved ones because they have some strange eating human flesh addiction. And I don't think the clinics are open for a zombie-cure.

           That reminds me of a joke you probably heard a million times…two zombies walk into a bar…okay, okay, everyone has heard of that one…

Soooo…here's my new daily routine:

           -Explore various areas for food, supplies, and maybe human beings of some sort (no luck there).

           -Kill approaching zombies.

           -Get five hours of sleep at a secure place.

           -Kill zombies.

           -Kill more zombies.

           -And kill even more zombies.

           It's the hard-knock life and all that jazz!

Anywho, my life is still on repeat but found a new genre to cling onto. HEHE.

           Soooo…what's your story?

           Yeah, that's right – I am talking to you.

Surrounding a bonfire, five dead zombie's sit with the only known survivor of the human race. It has been several months since the tragic fall of mankind. No explanation can determine what happened.

           JUST THEN…footsteps and growling can be heard from a short distance.

Hmmm…come here,

           zombie

           zombie

           zombie.

           I got some made-in-China lead for you. Nothing but the best!

A few days later, he wakes up to the sudden surprise of a zombie bite. At first, he thinks he is still dreaming, but as the bite becomes more painful, he soon realizes it is no dream at all. A female zombie, age maybe 16, starts chopping away at his leg.

           For the female zombie, 'mmmmmmmmmm, finger-lickin’-good!' For the last remaining survivor of the human race, 'ain't that a bitch!'

"I get into the building with no greeter. No customers. No co-workers. No people at all. It was deserted. I walk through center aisle and I notice some noise from the meat department to my right. I head over there through aisle seven and I witnessed something disturbing. One female customer was munching into another female customer's stomach on the ground, as if there was a KFC platter dish right in front of them. The blood, intestines, guts pouring out of this poor woman made me sick to my stomach with the yummy taste of vomit in my mouth. And that scent. My god, that aroma is unbearable. Imagine salt, vomit, scat, and left over chicken from last month all mixed together in a blender. Not pleasant to be around.

I run out of there and into the sporting good section. I eye the guns hidden in the glass display.

"Hmmm…" I ponder to myself.

I was never quite keen on guns. I am actually for gun control, to be honest. But when you see something as fucked up as a person chowing down on another person in front of you, you act accordingly. I find a baseball bat near by, and use it to break the glass display. I take whatever gun I find, put some bullets in it, and run back to the meat department. Woman A is still consuming Woman B. I shoot Woman A. Woman A goes down. I shoot her several more times, making sure she doesn't get that last cheap scare. I approach her more closely, and take a look. I recognize her. She is one of the regulars that always come in. Kind of sucks that she has to die at a place like this.

Anyway…

“A few days later, he woke up to the sudden surprise of a zombie bite. At first, he thinks he is still dreaming but as the bite got more painful, he soon realized it was no dream at all. A female zombie, age maybe 16, starts chopping away at his leg.