JOSHUA O'BRIEN - BALLS
Joshua O'Brien hails from New York and likes pineapple on his pizza. His job is to entertain anyone he meets and everyone he hasn't. Follow him on Twitter (@JoshuaPOBrien), Facebook (Joshua O’Brien), and Instagram (joshuaobrienvo).
I can’t believe I let them bribe me into doing another stupid job. It’ll be easy they said. Just sneak in, scout out the area, and leave they said. Easy my ass. Here I am sneaking into a warehouse full of undead and all I got is a 9mm and a pack of gum. Better be some damn good pay for this or I’m gonna hang those idiots over a horde of zombies by their balls.
Balls is such an interesting word. It can either be the male genitalia or be used as another word for guts. It can be used to help show how much of a badass you really are. Hell, I’m a girl and I probably have more balls than half the folks back at base.
Anyway, back to the task at hand. Gotta stay quiet so I don’t alarm the meat bags. Let’s see here. Couple of forklifts, an office in the back corner, an endless amount of undead and sevenish unopened shipping containers. Those containers are probably what they’re looking for.
Welp, time to head back. “Shit!” Of course I’d drop my gun and hit an empty barrel, why not? “Dammit.” Okay, just find the exit and hope they didn't hear that. Nope, too late. They heard that and they’re blocking the way I came in. Great, now they’re all walking towards me. Think fast Chloe. “The back alley!”
That’s where my ride should be. But the only way to get there would be through the loading dock and that's swarmed with undead. I could make a break for the exit, but I can only run so fast. Not to mention there’s about five hundred hungry reasons I shouldn’t do that. Screw it, I’m gonna drive a forklift right through them and hope for the best. Just got done talking about how big my imaginary balls are, might as well prove it.
“Three. Two. One. Go!” Hop the railing and jump down these shipping containers. Push away the zombie on my right. Punch the asshole coming from the left. “Come on legs, don’t fail me now!” Crap! A crawler grabbed my shoe. If I don’t get him off of me, I’ll get bit. “Let me go, you rotting bag of shit!” I managed to slip out of the shoe he grabbed and took off for the forklift. “Ha! And Jack said I’d get killed wearing slip on sneakers. Eat it, Jack!”
I made it and the key is already in the ignition, awesome. It won’t start, not awesome. “Come on. Come on. Start already! Yes!” Hit the gas and go.
This is going well so far. I had no idea forklifts were so fast. Granted, I’m swerving around most of the zombies so I don’t lose speed. “Hell yeah! I made it. Now, where’s the damn?--”
“Took you long enough, Chloe! You just gonna sit there or are you getting in?!”
“No matter how many jobs we go on together, I’ll never get used to you pulling up in this thing.” Jack always drives around this old taco truck. Say’s it’s the best thing to have in an apocalypse situation. To be honest, I’ve been saved by this thing so many times, I’m starting to agree with him.
“You can say whatever you want about my ride. It’s still the only thing that’s keeping the two of us from being dinner.”
“You’re not wrong there, Jackie.”
“Would ya stop calling me that? I’m a dude. Now get back there and show these undead fuck-wads today’s specials.”
“You got it, Jackie. Time to serve our new customers.” Man, I love saying that. There she is, fully loaded and ready to go. “Did you miss me, sweetie? I promise to stop leaving you here all alone. Wow, you feel so clean and your barrel seems bigger.”
“Would ya stop having finger sex with the M60 and shoot those zombies?”
“You wanna start driving and get us out of here? And don’t tell me how to handle my guns! We’ll continue this later, sweetie. Now, it’s time to have some fun. Let’s show these bastards how big our balls really are!”