Chapter 1: Well, It’s Finally Happened
That’s right. It’s over. Everything you know and love has been destroyed by nuclear fire or decimated by an otherworldly plague.
I’d say I’m sorry, but suck it up buttercup! This is the fucking apocalypse and I’m not a goddamned barista telling you we’re out of chai lattes!
Pull your big gender fluid britches and get with the program! The world has ended! Everyone is dead! The future of the human race now lies with you.
God help us all (if you believe in that sort of thing).
Chapter 2: Fuck.
Now that Grubhub, Lyft, and cell phones are shot, you’re no doubt wondering how the fuck you’re going to survive.
If you’re not, take a moment. I’ll wait.
That’s right, fucker. No more sustainably farmed coffee.
No more farm-to-table restaurants.
No more chicken!
That last one is, hopefully, a bit of hyperbole, because you’re going to need those chickens to survive in what’s left of America.
Yes, even you, Jerry. Even you.
Chapter 3: Sorry, Susan
This is a special note for the vegans and vegetarians out there that subsist on a shit-ton of kale and vitamin supplements.
Guess what? You don’t get vitamin supplements anymore, Susan! GNC is full of zombies for Christ’s sake. You’re gonna need to start eating eggs for protein.
And, ooh Betsy, you’re gonna need that protein to fight off the hordes of half-dead, stumbling monstrosities that’ll wander mindlessly through your camp.
No, they’re not going to eat you. They’re walking until their joints and ligaments give out, but they’ll stomp all over your carrots and goddamn kale.
Chickens will move though. So find some.