Posted: January 14, 2014 by ketihapa in Drugs, Zombies
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

End of Days: Judgement Day. Is it real?


I slowly approach the towering man dressed in white. He looks too old to be standing upright and I somewhat envy his large white beard. He has what looks like a scroll in his left hand and a bic biro pen in his right. I take my time to study my surroundings; Directly in front of me is another man sitting behind a desk that seems overly too large. He too, like the man on his left holding the scroll, is dressed in a white robe. To his right is a huge TV screen. Apple. Those fucktards have taken over here too. “Oh God please let nobody fart here and there is no sign of Windows here,” I find myself thinking. Behind the man seated at the desk is a huge gate that is heavily guarded and behind me is a long queue that extends to God knows where.

“State your name for the record please.”


The man with the biro ticks something on his scroll and I assume it is a register. Now the man behind the desk clasps his hands together and looks directly into my eyes.

“Mwangi do you know why you are here?”

I nod.

“Good,” he says, now pointing a remote at the TV screen. “Mwangi today you are here because you died a few hours ago and we are here to determine whether you will go to Heaven or Hell. The gentleman you that just ticked your register is Moses and I am Saint Peter. Welcome to the Pearly gates. Since you did not repent before you died, the TV screen is here to display all the wrongs you have ever committed.”

A sweat starts breaking out when the TV comes on, not because I do not see a way out of this, but because everyone else standing behind me in line is going to see what sort of jackass I was back on Earth. Then, as luck would have it, lightning flashes followed closely by a loud clap of thunder, which somewhat seems to make the TV go off.

“Jesus! Dammit man do you have to do that every time I am about to start judgment? Ok, Moses, tell Steve Jobs to bring another TV.”

“I’m sorry Sir, Jesus told Jobs to go hell… “

“….to fix the iFire,” he adds, on realizing what he’s just done. “Apparently some idiot tried to jailbreak it and now it’s dead.”

Saint Peter does a face-palm and shakes his head. “Ok, we are going to have to take a break people,” he says, as he leaves for the gate. The beautiful lady standing behind me taps my shoulder.

“You can stop trembling now, LOL. Besides, with the high number of spirits here I’d think you’d be drunk enough to not care.”

I resist the urge to laugh as I turn to face her. She is pretty, no doubt and I find myself wondering whether if we’d met back on Earth I’d hit that.. or whether I’d require a hammer to hit that. Just then, a man that looks too confused appears from nowhere.

“Saint Peter Sir, Hell is hell right now. Those idiots are rioting. When the iFire didn’t work we tried to go back analogue and light the fire, but it is impossible. A group of gay men have taken over the fireplace and now everyone is afraid to bend over to put any firewood or light the fire for that matter. I barely escaped. Angel Michael told me to call for backup.”

He must be Steve Jobs, I assume. Saint Peter clenches his fist and says “Son of a…”

“Son of God!”

“Ok, we will have to revert to plan B. Ok, all ye sinners, since it appears we cannot send you to hell to burn in the everlasting fire of brimstone and sulfur, we will have to send you back to Earth as Zombies. “

He raises his hands and says something I cannot comprehend (I assume it’s Heavenly language) and suddenly, I find myself back on Earth. Suddenly a huge pang of hunger hits me and all I can see is meat. I try to run towards the source of the smell but I cant. I am dragging myself with both hands pointing away from me and I am groaning. Seriously, did he have to turn us into fucking zombies? Now someone is going to blow my brains out.

As if from nowhere, a sharp pain hits my head and I close my eyes. Some bastard must have blown my brains out just as I feared. Oh well, I had a good run – ok, sluggish walk- as a zombie. But then, I don’t die. Instead, I hear what sounds like a female voice.

“Mwangi snap the hell out of it!” I open my eyes and look at the source of the voice. A girl. “You smoked too much weed and now you are experiencing a severe case of munchies. You fucking tried to eat my arm. NKT!”


I black out.

  1. The Real G says:

    hahahaha. entertaining. I liked it.

  2. Ivy says:

    You need to re-evaluate the meds you are on. 😀 Insanely enough, should zombies exist, this is probably the best theory on how they’d come about.

  3. iamnatem says:

    Best theory of zombies and btw
    have you found that chic after the black out?

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