text: [Themes: horror, zombie, post-apocalyptic]
  
  That morning, you get back in your car and hit the road.
  
  If you make it to far northern Canada, where nobody lives, there will surely be no zombies. You head off out of town going roughly north - you're not 100% sure what the quickest route is, but you figure if you drive north long enough, it's only a matter of time until you're chilling with the polar bears.
  
  However, you don't make it far before a problem presents itself. The journey will be long, encompassing many days; at some point, you will undoubtedly need to acquire more gas. As it is, you only have half a tank. But if the electricity is out at your house, it may well be out everywhere, rendering gas stations useless to you. To be on the safe side, you should find a means of siphoning gas.
  
  One choice would be to stop at the nearest house you find and take a hose. The downside is this would require you to manually suck the gas out, thereby exposing yourself to carcinogenic compounds. It would also taste like balls. Another option is: there's a Home Depot not far from here, where you might be able to find a pump of some sort that could do the work for you. It would also be an opportunity to pick up some other useful supplies. However, there is no telling how many zombies you might encounter in a place like that.
  
  > go to Home Depot
  Naturally, you can't expect to survive a zombie apocalypse without the proper tools. You point yourself towards the nearest Home Depot.
  
  As you gradually emerge from the back roads into town, you encounter increasingly large numbers of zombies; first, one or two wandering in the road, then small packs. You run their asses over whenever possible.
  
  Finally, you make your way to the Home Depot. It stands in the center of Pressingham (just north of Cowperston), orange and majestic. You encounter no zombies on the way in. Once inside, you seem to be alone in the store, but looks can be deceiving - best to take what you need and go. A few minutes of perusing yields a suitable siphon pump and as much beef jerky and duct tape as you can fit in a cart. As you're about to go, a brilliant idea occurs to you: chainsaw. You locate the largest in stock, load up on fuel, and you're out of there.
  
  For the next few hours, you drive along the back roads, encountering no living humans and only a handful of zombies, which you run over. Yee haw. You make your way into the countryside: hilly farmland where houses - and potential undead - are few and far between. Sitting there, staring at the road for so long is wearing on you. You drift off, per se, into a daydream. About tits.
  
  Suddenly, an orange light catches your eye. You're almost out of gas!
  
  You've never been in this part of the state before, so you have no idea how far down the road you might have to go to find a car you can siphon from. You might have to turn around. But it seems like forever since the last house you passed. How many miles has it been? Twenty? Thirty? And you're not even sure if there was a car at that place.
  
  > Keep going
  You probably don't have enough gas to make it back to the last house. The only reasonable option is to keep going north and hope you run into something.
  
  A few miles later, you come across a Ford Explorer stuck in a ditch by the side of the road, so you get out and examine it. It's still running and there's a zombie in the driver's seat. Guess he was bitten and didn't have the balls to end it. Or didn't know that a zombie bite infects you, like all those people on television and in the movies. What's up with that? Is all zombie-related media set in a parallel universe in which no one has ever seen a zombie movie?
  
  And now for a more important question. Clearly, you need to siphon the gas from this car, as there's no telling how far it could be before you run across another source. However, according to state law, the engine must be completely stopped before any fuelling or de-fuelling operations can commence. This would require killing the zombie so you can safely access the ignition. The problem with this is that there's a lazy bastard inside of you just screaming to be let out. He wants you to siphon the gas without taking the extra fifteen seconds to do it the right way. So what do you do?
  
  > kill the zombie and stop the engine
  As Henry Ford once said, "Quality means doing it right when nobody is looking." You take the extra fifteen seconds to open the door, saw the zombie's face off, and shut the car off. Over the course of several minutes, you manage to claim all of the gasoline with your handy dandy siphon pump, and you're on the road again.
  
  It's a long way to Canada, but with your superior intuition, not-suck-ish-ness, and chainsaw, you're confident you can make the journey.
  
  > Epilogue
  It is a long and arduous journey, but over the course of many days, you do indeed make your way to the barren tundra of northern Canada. There, using your handy dandy chainsaw and duct tape, you construct a log cabin. You furnish it with log chairs, a log table, a log bed and log paintings on the wall. You experience difficulty attempting to hunt caribou with a chainsaw, so you mostly sustain yourself on whatever fungus is lying around.
  
  You live out the rest of your natural life in solitude, but it's not all bad. You didn't get eaten by zombies, and over time you get really good at drawing naked chicks.