God Said I Wasn't Dead

Somehow, some of mother's weed had wandered into my scrambled eggs. Apparently it wasn't compatible with whatever illness I had picked up that day.

Now I'm on a massive drug trip, waking up as a damn body in a morgue and finding that the world is two months away from a zombie apocalypse.

I've tried jumping off the damn roof three times! Not only did I fail to fly, imprinted on the concrete below, and attracted the attention of some nosy scientists, but I'm starting to think this is real.

"Well damn!"