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Episode Notes
Felix has to finish their shift at work, no matter how many zombies get in the way.
Normal Shit by Michelle Adler
Read the comic: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/at-the-end-of-everything/list?title_no=527008
Buy the new "Babysitter...
Episode Notes
Felix has to finish their shift at work, no matter how many zombies get in the way.
Normal Shit by Michelle Adler
Read the comic: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/at-the-end-of-everything/list?title_no=527008
Buy the new "Babysitter Massacre" book! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08P4ZF9LG/
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Music by Ray Mattis http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
This episode sponsored by HenFlix.com
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Transcript:
I wasn't able to remove my respirator fast enough to prevent myself from filling it with vomit. I fought viciously with its straps and eventually separated it from my face mid wretch, tossing it away with all the gracefulness of a person who was now covered in their own puke. I finished up on the deteriorating concrete like a civilized adult.
My first clear thought while I was trying to calm down was that general, "my body betrayed me and now I have no food and I'm going to starve to death" thing that I think when I have no food and I'm going to starve to death. That, amazingly, didn't calm me down at all.
After that, came a wave of embarrassment. I mean, it's just an arm. Was I really throwing up over a stupid fucking arm? It's not like I'd never seen an arm before... I see them all the time, I even have two of my own! I mean, look at it sitting over there in the street, minding its own business...ripped off at the socket, like a chicken wing.. In the early stages of decay..
I spit some more bile into the grass. Ok, now I was just messing up my esophagus.
I sat for a few minutes, collecting my thoughts. I couldn't go to work like this. I needed to call Steff and let her know I was going to be late. "Maybe I'll leave out the part about the arm and just pretend I'm unreliable," I thought. But before I could trudge back to my house and hose myself off, I was going to need to do something about that arm.
I sighed. They'd said they were going to up city sanitation services to take care of this kind of thing, but I hadn't even seen a garbage truck in over a month. Living in a slightly less desirable area of the city, I was used to this type of shit. But still, even slightest consideration, like an email about suspending service indefinitely, would have been nice. I thought about ignoring it, just never looking in that spot again, but I was afraid someone was going to trip over it. I pulled off my soaked t-shirt and approached cautiously, as if not to startle it. It took all my effort to actually grasp the thing with my t-shirt covered hand. I then lifted the limp chunk of meat and panic ran it to the closest neighbors overflowing trash can, shouting "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" As I did for some unknowable reason.
I made it back to my house WITHOUT TOUCHING ANYTHING and washed my hands until the skin started to peel.
I felt bad about being late to work. Being dependable is my one and only good quality. Without it I'm just a scared, incompetent child. "This is the time," I thought as I pushed the security gate open just enough to slide my...
