Five Ways My Kids Are Going To Get Me Killed in the Zombie Apocalypse

In the post-apocalyptic world, children are a death sentence.

“Wait”, you say shaking your head in confusion, “won’t children become even more important after the apocalypse?  Won’t we need them to propagate the species?”.

Nice thought, but the truth is just the reverse.  Look at the average behavior of any child under the age of six and it won’t take long for you to figure it out – the children aren’t going to save us.  They’re going to doom us.

Still don’t believe me?  Here’s the five things my kids do RIGHT NOW that I just know will get my ass killed when the undead come for us:

  1. They don’t listen –  I shouldn’t even have to mention this.  Have you ever met a child who listened?  Every single request or demand that I make of them is met with either negotiation, refusal, or outright tantrum.  That’s going to go real well when there’s a horde of walkers on our trails and I can’t get them to shut their mouths and hide because they just don’t feel like it.  That means I’m going to end up having to cause a major distraction to get the ravenous horde to follow me away from them.  That’s dead daddy 1.
  2. They’re pack rats – A key to survival is traveling fast and light.  You shouldn’t be carrying anything on you that isn’t a weapon, provision, or other item absolutely essential to survival.  Guess what – the damn Paw Patrol collection isn’t essential.  Nor are the five hundred different leaves that my eldest would be picking up for his nature collection while we’re trying to survive on the outside.  Ravenous horde comes, and they’re too busy picking up all the damn legos to make a run for it.  Oh, and God save us all if I try to leave “Blankie” behind!  Once again, I’ll have to be a distraction, one that will most likely get ingested quickly.  I just hope those zombie bastards lose some toes on the legos I’m going to be dropping in front of them.  Dead daddy 2.
  3. They eat all my food – I can’t come home for lunch without a roundbottomed-little four year old coming up to me, sweet little smile on his face, and asking, “can I sit with you?”.  Who can say no to that?  Next thing I know, he’s on my lap, gnawing away at the Jimmy Johns sandwich I had been salivating over all morning.  The same will no doubt hold true once we’re on the run.  What meager food we have will undoubtedly go to the children first, because I’m not a monster.  Of course, being so weak from hunger isn’t going to help me when I have to lead another horde off while little man finishes snacking off my portion.  Dead daddy 3.
  4. They loud as hell – The one thing every parent craves in life is quiet.  This is heartbreaking because that’s the one thing they will never get.  I’m not even talking about the loud toys, guitars, or drum sets your parents buy them just to torture you.  The children themselves are  sources of noise.  They scream, they cry, they NEVER STOP TALKING.  Not exactly helpful when you’re trying to hide from a mob of flesh eaters that respond to the slightest noise.  Cue another distraction, cue another dead daddy – the fourth.
  5. The wife likes them better – You’ve probably been asking yourself how exactly they’re supposed to survive on their own with me running off as a distraction all the time.  Well, that’s where Mommy comes in.  You see, it’s not that they won’t listen or be quiet, or share food.  They just won’t do it until Mom yells at them to do so.  By that point, it’s too late and I have to run off as the distraction.  Because she told me to.  She ain’t going to risk the kids.  She put a lot of effort into bringing them into the world.  Nope, I’m the expendable one.  Till death do we part, which won’t take long once my starving, lego-packing ass starts shouting for the flesh eaters to come after me so that she can run off with the kids and find a new daddy for them, one that actually knows how to survive in this world.  He’ll probably be a Cynthiana Sheriff’s Deputy.  Small consolation for dead daddy the fifth.

I know it sounds heartless, like I’d actually be willing to sacrifice them to save myself.  Well, I wouldn’t, and that’s the biggest reason I’m going to get killed.  I’ve grown awfully fond of the little tyros, so I’d do whatever it takes to ensure their survival.  It will be the most noble sacrifice I can think of to make, giving up my life for the children I love.  Just so long as they don’t end up becoming little Carl Grimeses……

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