Why I shouldn’t have bought roll-on deodorant
There are many things in my life that I don’t regret, but this isn’t one of them.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ONLY HAVE ROLL -ON DEODERANT?!” Sally screamed at me, as the zombies pounded against the wooden bedroom door.
I considered her question for a second, even though we only had a handful left.
It was a week before the outbreak, and I’d gone shopping for the regular bits and bobs. Due to my increasingly expensive ability to buy unnecessary items, I’d left my cards at home and had only brought enough cash to cover what I’d need.
Somewhere down aisle three, I discovered that eggs had jumped up a dollar in price, while over in the cold of aisle seven, the frozen pizzas had decided to up the ante even further – a two dollar price rise.
By the time I reached aisle twelve, full of cheap makeup, nappies, condoms (side-by-side, making me chortle) to pick up my deodorant, I discovered that my regular aerosol was exactly three dollars out of my budget.
“Get fucked,” I said, too loudly, as an older lady heard and flipped me off.
Irritated from being given the bird from someone old enough to not know it was referred to as the ‘bird,’ I examined the options within my price range. To my dismay, none of the aerosol deodorants fit the bill.
“Get fucked,” I said, softer this time. This time I managed to overlook the child playing with a box of tampons that had suddenly appeared next to me – his mother deciding on what packet to buy. They both gave me the bird.
Thoroughly ticked off, I grabbed a bottle of the roll-on deodorant and left in a huff to pay.
“MARK!” Sally yelled, snapping me back to the present.
I shrugged in reply to her question – there was not enough time left to respond verbally, as the zombies broke down the rest of the door.
The lighter was dropped from Sally’s hand as the zombies took a chunk out of her forearm – we both shouted in pain as they crash tackled us and began their brunch.
The last thought I had, before turning into one of the zombies, was that I definitely shouldn’t have bought roll-on deodorant. I should have given up the eggs, or the pizza, or even the three litre neopolitan ice cream tub just so I could have afforded the aerosol.
You see, you cannot construct the makeshift flamethrower necessary to attempt an escape from a zombie hoard with roll-on deodorant.
On the bright side, I’m the best smelling zombie out there now.