text: [Themes: horror, serious]
  
  As the Zombies are momentarily discouraged, and confused, because let's be honest here, they may as well be cannibal retards with hygiene problems, you take the opportunity to board up and secure the window with some extremely handy boards that just happen to be lying around. Holy goddamned muthafuckin' shit - behind you! You hear a Zombie tripping over the bowlingballs strewn all over the place by the earlier trap... the Zombies have managed to push aside the vending machine barricade! Think fast!
  
  > drop to your knees and pray for God to save your sorry ass
  Pious, you fall to your knees and pray to God to save your scrawny white ass from the zombie army machine from beyond the grave.
  
  God's not picking up.
  Whichever of these conclusions you come to, it really doesn't matter, because you'll find out soon enough, and if God does exist, you can take it up with him in the afterlife. Unless it's option 1, in which case you just die, and stay dead. Did I mention that you die? If Zombies could laugh at you, they would, on your bony knees, praying away your last few seconds. The Zombies make short work of you because you are so thin. You're so thin that sometimes people think you have some kind of degenerative disease. But that doesn't matter now, because you're dead. Killed by Zombies.
  
  Knowing that you don't have a chance in hell of resetting the trap before the Zombies deflesh your ugly face, you just push a big vending machine in front of the entrance, which should hold them off for a while at least. No time to rest - the old familiar sound of a bowling ball catapulted into a rotting face alerts you that another trap has been set off on the other side of the alley... the zombies have broken the window and want in.
  
  > concentrate on blocking up the window
  You rush over to the newly broken window, stepping over the spring mounted bowling ball catapult, and grabbing some extremely handy planks, a hammer and some nails. Fighting off the clammy hands of the undead, you're halfway through blocking the window, when you accidently fall backwards and onto the catapult, which luanches you out of your fortress and into the waiting arms of a crowd of brainhungry zombies. Ah, another case of man's hubris getting him killed by zombies.
  
  Hmmm. In retrospect, the bowl-o-rama may not have been the best choice as your stronghold. Not even zombies come to this shit-hole. And you're getting peckish. And Ted's carcass is beginning to smell kinda funny. And it's cold. And you put a trap in front of the toilets so you can't even go for a whizz. You're such a fucking dumbass. What now, Sherlock?
  
  > Perhaps you should leave and find other people to protect you or something
  Finally your loneliness gets to you because you are a deeply lonely individual. Even though a zombie invasion is underway, I still suspect no-one would want to band together with you, even if they planed to use you as a walking flesh-decoy. But that suspicion will never be confirmed, because the second you negotiate all the traps you left, you run into a herd of zombies, that chase you back against the wall of the bowl-o-rama, next to the window where you set up the springloaded bowlingball catapult, which promptly sends its payload flying towards the back of your head at high speeds. It knocks you out cold.
  
  When you wake up, you are dead, and being digested in sixteen different zombies stomachs, each more acidic and corrosive than the last.
  
  Using the skills you learnt in Vietnam, which have not been mentioned before, and similarly shall never be mentioned henceforth, you manage to construct all kind of A-teamesque traps, mostly involving bowling balls. Kind of like Tom and Jerry, except the things caught in the traps will hopefully stay dead. Anyhoo, you're now the last living guy in the bowl-o-rama, and is surrounded by traps. What now, Einstein?
  
  > Leave.
  Even though it was your little sister who was in the wheelchair, you now understand why you were considered the spastic of the family. You make it about ten feet in the deathtrap you have made before setting off a trip wire which causes an overhead net full of bowling balls to fall on your head. When the zombies finally break in, they will not have to chew their food much at all, as it is pre-tenderised. By your own fucking unrelenting idoicy! and bowling balls. Did I metion that you're shit?
  
  Putting aside years of friendship, or, if we are going to be honest about this, years of embarrassed acknlowdgement of each others respective existence tinged with mutual loathing, you grab the nearest bowling ball and mercilessly smash the un-life out of Ted's skull. Why must we hurt those we love? I hope you're pleased with yourself, boyo.
  
  > become the irony king by feasting on Ted's brains
  Oh the irony! The living feasting upon the rotten brains of the undead... you greedily scoop up big handfuls of Ted's brains, and bring it to your mouth like some kind of thick soup, like say, mulligitawny or something, an let it all dribble down your front. Unfortunately you have now been infected with the solar rays/virus/strange radiation that is causing the dead to rise, which kills you, and -the irony- brings you back to un-life, as a dead person who feasts on the brains of the living - do you see the clever triple reversal here... some dead guy wants to eat your brains, but you eat his brains instead and then you die and want to eat the brains of the living.... hahahhahahahaaha
  
  Like the slacker you are, you decide to spend what are most probably your final few hours in a bowling alley. How sad. Having nobody who cares about you, or anything worth living for, you've ended up in the one place that seems to hate you less, Ted's Bowl-o-rama. And you even suspect that Ted isn't that fond of you after all. Especially now that he's a flesh eating Zombie creeper from far beyond the stars and he's advancing in his shuffling 'gonna eat your guts out' gait he now has. Brains! What do you do?
  
  > Hide!
  Being a fucking moron, you decide that the best place to hide is at the end of the alley where the pins are set up. Even in his Zombified state, Ted is still capable of hitting the reset switch, sending the mechanical pin-reseting device down on to your egg-shell thin skull. All ZombieTed has to do is wait for your brain-skull soup to be delivered up the ball return chute, and presto, he has an instant meal. Even ZombieTed is amazed at your apparently boundless idiocy, but this does not distract him enough to stop him feasting on your sweet, sweet brains.
  
  You dumbass.
  
  Like the slacker you are, you decide to spend what are most probably your final few hours in a bowling alley. How sad. Having nobody who cares about you, or anything worth living for, you've ended up in the one place that seems to hate you less, Ted's Bowl-o-rama. And you even suspect that Ted isn't that fond of you after all. Especially now that he's a flesh eating Zombie creeper from far beyond the stars and he's advancing in his shuffling 'gonna eat your guts out' gait he now has. Brains! What do you do?
  
  > try to talk sense into your former acquaintance
  'Ted', 'Ted', you wail in your stupid sounding voice, hoping that your words will penetrate the flesh craving Zombie exterior, and touch the malcontent beneath. Ted is unmoved by the performance, and continues to advance in his shuffling 'I'm gonna eat ya face off and feast on the sweet, sweet brains beneath' zombie gait.
  
  Only five feet away, you decide to pull out the big guns, and remind Ted of the happiest times you had shared. You reminded him of the time he pushed you down that flight of stairs, and you had to use crutches for three months. Nothing.
  
  > continue reminding Ted of the 'happy times'
  Ted shuffles closer and closer, and you panic, racking your brain for more fond memories. You remind him of the time he set up a child pornography ring on your computer, and made you take the blame for it. Nothing. You remind him of the time he hid little nuggets of fresh dogshit in your bowling shoes, which gave you toxicara and forced you to spend a month in a coma. Nothing.
  
  > More fond reminiscences...
  ZombieTed is now only a foot away, his outstretched arms hungering for some scrwany fleshbag, his one eye sizing up your cranium. Without a moment to lose, you remind him of his fondest memory, the one that makes him laugh that big sweaty fat-guy laugh. You remind him of the time you caught him humping your mother out in the back alley of the bowl-o-rama, and the years of psychotherapy it entailed for you...you think you see Ted smile, but it was probably just a muscle spasm. Eitherway, you'll never know considering he's eating your face off. But at least you die thinking of happy days.
  
  At last (I know you screwed up on the last few choices) you decide to accept your fate and take your rightful place in this little piece: you can now be the cowering schmuck we always knew you were, holed up somewhere, armed to the teeth waiting for the Zombies.
  
  The question is, where do you hide?
  
  > Your house
  Like the pathetic worm that you are, you plump for running home and into the bosom of mummy and daddy, most probably to hide under your quilt. Your he-man quilt. Even Prince Adam could kick the shit out of you. But all that aside, you run home, dodging the small crowds of Zombies, who very slowly follow you.
  
  Anyways, now you are at your front door.
  
  > go in.
  You put the key in the door and enter your house, that terraced squat deadbeat white-trashlings like you live in, with pieces of car all over the lawn, and bikes rusting in the hallway. Hardly putting your foot through the door you are confronted by ZombieMum and ZombieDad!
  
  > kill your parents!
  Ten thousand points! It's always heart warming to see someone hack their parents to pieces. Now nobody can laugh at you anymore because you're some crazy little parricide. Although I can't say you survive the Zombie Flesh Riot, I'm going to end the game here as you've turned you're life around from being a no-hope bum taking shit from his parents to a no-hope bum who murdered his parents. Congrats.