Luke's Diary: An unlucky man in a zombie apocalypse. Days 601 - 756

Day 658: Friday 15th June 2018

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Day 658
Friday 15th June 2018

I'm exhausted. It's been a real roller coaster of a day with some unexpected and unpleasant surprises, the return of a familiar but unwanted face, shock deaths and an even more shocking revelation.

In the morning we all got up and got ready to travel back to the church for TJ's funeral. None of us had any dark outfits or black suits do we just made ourselves look as presentable as we could. Auntie Meryl still had no idea. "So we're going to see a DJ?" she asked. "No," I said, rolling my eyes and quickly starting to feel impatient. "We're going to see TJ and then we're going to The Base." "The what?" said Auntie Meryl. "The Base," I bluntly said, "Not Homebase, not moon-base, a place called The Base. I've spoken to you about this a hundred times." "Well I don't think you've ever mentioned it," said Auntie Meryl, "If you'd spoken to me about this a hundred times, you'd I think I'd have remembered."

We finished getting ready and also finished gathering our things ready to leave for The Base when we returned. I met Tara outside at the car. She gave me a stern look. "I'm sorry about yesterday," I said. "Forget it," said Tara, "I suppose tensions were running high. Just try to remember that there's probably a very good chance that someone I love is at The Base." "Yeah I'm sorry," I said. Dotty came out to wave us goodbye. "Try not to be too long," she said, "I don't like being here on my own." "You'll be OK," said Tara, "Just look after the kids. We'll be back as soon as we can."

We got into the Vauxhall; Esther and Tara in the front and Auntie Meryl sat in the middle at the back squashing Mike and I against her and the side of the car interior. The journey to the church was a right drama. ALL Auntie Meryl did was complain. "It's tight in here," she moaned, "Can't you make it any bigger? Can't you push your seats forward or something?" "Auntie Meryl they're pushed forward as far as they'll go," I said. "Well can't you make this thing wider or something?" She asked. "It's a car, Auntie Meryl," I bluntly said, "How can I make it bigger?" "Well can't you press one of those button things?" she impatiently asked. "That won't make the car bigger," I said in annoyance, "God, you're taking up two thirds of the back. I'm squashed right up against the window." "And what's that weird smell?" Auntie Meryl asked, sounding irritated. "I think it's the air freshener," said Tara, removing it from the mirror, "Well I'm surprised it's lasted this long. It's called scented jasmine." "Scented what?" asked Auntie Meryl. "Scented jasmine," repeated Tara. "Bin it," said Auntie Meryl, "It bl**dy stinks. It's bringing on my asthma. If I wanted to be squashed in a little space with all these funny smells I'd go to that dodgy all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet at the end of my road. The something Chinese buffet it was called." "Fu King," I said. "Oi, now we don't want language like that," said Auntie Meryl, "His prawn balls might have been questionable but me and Betty Crack couldn't get enough of his meat feast. It's boiling in here. I can hardly breathe." "Well stop talking then," I firmly said. "How is not talking going to cool me down?" asked Auntie Meryl, "Isn't there a fan or some sort of air conditioning?" "It's a car, not an office block," I snapped. "I'm going to have to start taking some clothes off if it carries on like this for much longer," said Auntie Meryl, "I'm sweating like a black man." "Auntie Meryl you can't say that," I exclaimed in outrage. "Why not?" She asked. "It's racist," I emphasised, "Anyway, do black men sweat a lot?" "They do if they're squashed in little sweat box on wheels like this one," said Auntie Meryl, "Oh, I can feel the sweat dripping down the crack of my arse." "Auntie Meryl," I firmly said, "Will you please be quiet. We'll be there in five minutes." "I need the loo," said Auntie Meryl. "Oh for f*cks sake!" I yelled. "Don't start shouting," said Auntie Meryl, "When you gotta go, you gotta go." "Actually I need to go too," said Mike. "Oh for crying out loud," I said, rolling my eyes. "Oooh you can be a selfish little sod sometimes," said Auntie Meryl, "How would you like it if you needed to evict your dinner and someone shouted at you to wait." "It's OK," said Mike, "I've got an empty bottle in my bag. I'll just do it into that." "You bl**dy well won't," I firmly said to Mike, "Just hold it in. We're nearly there." "But I'm desperate," said Mike. "What do you want him to do?" snapped Auntie Meryl, "P*ss himself? Let the poor bugger have a pee." "I'll just take the top off, pop the tip of my old fella in the bottle and have a wee," said Mike. "Ugh, Mike," complained Esther, "That's disgusting." "Sorry, but when you've got to go you've got to go," said Mike. He screwed the top off his empty water bottle, unzipped his flies, placed the tip of his penis inside the bottle and started peeing, His urination lasted for about two minutes – it felt like a lifetime. There was a very uncomfortable and awkward silence. "I wish I had a penis," said Auntie Meryl. "Oh Jesus Christ," I said, rolling my eyes and burying my hand in my hands. "Well I wouldn't have to sit down to pee then," said Auntie Meryl, "I can't exactly go in a bottle can I? I'd need something with a bigger diameter than that; something like a mixing bowl." "Oh God," I said, "Are we nearly there? I can't bear this." Mike was still peeing. "Mike will you hurry up and have a p*ss!" I snapped. "Nearly done," said Mike. "Hang on in the back," said Tara, "There's a couple of pot holes coming up." The next thing I knew, the car hit the pot holes, we all jerked forward and the bottle of dark yellow p*ss that Mike was holding shot across the back of the car, bypassing Auntie Meryl and drenching me from head to torso. "UGH!!!!!!!" I loudly yelled, "STOP THE CAR!" Tara quickly slammed on the break. She and Esther turned round. "What is it? What's wrong?" asked Esther. "Mike has just chucked his f*cking p*ss all over me!" I loudly snapped. "Jesus Christ, Luke," said Tara, "Is that it? I thought it was something serious." "Something serious!?" I loudly exclaimed, "I'm covered in p*ss and I f*cking stink." "Sorry Luke," said Mike, "It was the pot holes. I was trying to put the top back on. I think I've cut my thumb." "Cut your thumb!?" I loudly exclaimed, "Cut your thumb!? I'm covered in your p*ss and you're telling me you've cut your thumb. Are you taking the p*ss?" "No, he's giving it to you," giggled Esther. "Oh you can f*ck off," I snapped. "Oh it's only a bit of pee," said Auntie Meryl, "Betty Crack used to sit in her recliner for hours sat in her own p*ss." "Well I'm not an eighty year old incontinent pensioner," I snapped, "Oh for God's sake it stinks. Mike what the Hell have you been drinking." "Sorry," sad Mike, "I think I might have an infection." "Oh just wonderful," I sarcastically said, "Not just p*ss – infected p*ss." "It's meant to be good for your skin," said Auntie Meryl. "Oh really?" I sarcastically said, "Well why don't I get on my knees and you can all take it in turns to p*ss on me. Why not throw sh*t at me while you're at it." "Oh Luke just calm down," said Esther. "Calm down!?" I loudly exclaimed, "I'm covered in Mike's p*ss." "We'll get you to the church and you can get cleaned up," said Tara, "Come on let's go. We're nearly there." There was a tense lingering silence which was eventually broken by Auntie Meryl. "Where are we going again?"