In the laundromat tonight . . .

"Guess what we're going to have to buy more of before the next time we do laundry?"

Me, "What?"

Them, punching me in the face.

Me, stabbing them in the neck with a steak knife, or a bit of laundry pipe, whatever that is.


Later . . . in the laundromat . . .

"Look at this Tommy Hilfiger watch: it wraps around your wrist!"

Me, "It's a watch."

Them, trying to eat my brains.

Me, shooting them in their zombie faces with a gun or gun made of laundry pipe. I am MacGyver. Then I pop a couple slugs in the nearest washer. The slugs are made of socks. Sock bullets.