Only Dead on the Inside

by James Breakwell

  With all options for meat exhausted, it’s time to start gardening. The good news is there’ll be plenty of land available. With the collapse of Western civilization, your neighbors won’t be around to vigilantly police their property lines. Feel free to annex nearby yards as needed. First do a courtesy knock on your neighbors’ front doors to make sure they’re dead. Have a weapon handy to kill them if they’ve turned. Don’t kill them if they’re still human, though. That’s un-neighborly, not to mention a violation of homeowner’s association codes.

  To grow a garden in the apocalypse, pick vegetables that are both kid-proof and zombie-proof. Both are likely to march through your garden and trample your produce, but neither will stop to eat it. The undead will have little interest in your crops. In fact, they can help out by eating pests like deer and rabbits. Unfortunately, they’ll also want to eat you. Zombies, like children, take everything too far. The key to a successful garden is to work with zombies, not against them. Tie up a few around the garden. Make sure the restraints are long enough that the zombies can still grab varmints but short enough they can’t grab you. It’s not something to test out through trial and error. One mistake and you’ll be torn limb from limb by an undead monster. But on the plus side, your rhubarb will look spectacular.

  EATING SADNESS

  Once the garden is surrounded by a precarious ring of hungry corpses, it’s time to plant. There are benefits and drawbacks to each type of vegetable. Choose wisely.

  Vegetable

  Pro

  Con

  Sweet Corn

  It’s tall, so you can jump out from behind it and scare people.

  Scaring people might end poorly when everyone is armed.

  Potatoes

  They’re underground, so it’s hard for kids or zombies to trample them.

  Any potato that isn’t vodka has failed to live up to its true potential.

  Pumpkins

  They’re great for pie.

  Your kids will insist on carving them into jack-o’-lanterns instead of eating them even as you all starve to death.

  Peas

  Technically, they’re food.

  Feeding them to kids is borderline child abuse.

  Green Beans

  They’re green; they’re beans. What do you want from me?

  Not recommended for people with working taste buds.

  Carrots

  They take a long time to eat, which is good if you’re on a diet.

  Dieting is the opposite of what you’re going for here. Also, they don’t help your eyes. Like you needed one more letdown in your life.

  Cabbage

  It’s better than eating razorblades, I guess.

  Occasionally it turns into a doll of dubious collector’s value.

  Lettuce

  It goes great with burgers.

  Cows will go extinct on the first day of the zombie apocalypse. Also, lettuce is paper in plant form.

  Cucumbers

  They’re a great opportunity for penis jokes.

  Marital strain caused by too many penis jokes.

  Zucchini

  I don’t even know what this is.

  Fire?

  Rest assured, kids aren’t any more likely to eat vegetables from your backyard than they are from a grocery store. It’s good to know planting a garden, like all other parenting efforts, is ultimately futile.

  However, there are a few tricks you can use to incentivize vegetable consumption and keep your kids miserable but alive. That’s always been your best-case scenario as a parent.

  Do force your children to eat. Shove the vegetables in their mouths if you have to. You’re bigger than them. Might makes right.

  Don’t give your kids a choice. Never ask them what they want. Tell them what they’ll have. It’s a short walk from options to insurrection.

  Do make them eat it all. Anything children say in an attempt to leave the table early is a lie. No one has ever been full halfway through a radish.

  Don’t negotiate with terrorists. Never bribe them to discourage bad behavior. You have the power. It’s your way or starvation.

  Do lie to them. Offer them all sorts of wonderful things if they finish their food. This is different than negotiating with terrorists because you won’t keep any of your promises.

  Don’t tell the truth. Dishonesty is so important I put it on here twice. Tell your kids zombies can hear rumbling stomachs, and suddenly that expired can of refried beans doesn’t sound so bad.

  Do eat the leftovers. If you fail to get your kids to eat—which you probably will—scarf down whatever remains. One of you might as well survive.

  Don’t apologize. You didn’t cause the chicken nugget shortage.

  Even if, in the eyes of your children, that will always be your fault, just like everything else in the world.

  Do eat the ugly vegetables. This isn’t a beauty contest. Weird, deformed vegetables with bad spots are just as nutritious as vegetables that look good. Okay, that’s a lie. No vegetables look good.

  Don’t give your kids false hope. There are no better meals around the corner. The world sucks. No need to sugarcoat it, especially since mentioning sugar would just make them hungrier.

  THE MAGIC BAG OF WONDER

  If there’s one thing little kids love more than chicken nuggets and pizza, it’s dog food. It’s like crack to toddlers. If there’s any of it in your house or any other house in a three-state radius, your kids will find and eat it the second you look away. Let them. You won’t need it for your dog since he’ll be off at pet college. Hopefully he’s not wasting your money on a liberal arts degree.

  While dog food isn’t meant for human consumption, it must have at least some nutritional value for tiny humans. Kids and dogs aren’t all that different. They both roll around on the ground and look super cute until they poop on your floor. I say let your kids eat it and see what happens. But before you go that route, be sure state governments have totally broken down. Otherwise things will get awkward when Child Protective Services show up.

  FLOWER OF LIFE

  If you want to stay alive, think like a toddler. They’re great at eating all kinds of things that aren’t technically edible but also won’t kill them. The colorful modeling dough children play with falls in that category. It’s not meant for human consumption, yet there are multiple accessories to shape it into hamburgers and spaghetti. It’s the same sort of encouragement-by-discouragement cigarette companies use when they say kids shouldn’t smoke because they’re not old enough to look that cool. Modeling compounds shouldn’t be a regular meal, but it’s okay for an occasional treat. Your kids are going to eat it anyway, and it’ll keep away their hunger pangs for a while. Plus it will make their poop look amazing.

  Your dough supply will run out eventually, even if you’re the only survivor who bothered to loot it. Fortunately there’s an even better source of fiber that grows in your own backyard: dandelions. The first instinct of small children is to stick everything in their mouths. Instead of stopping them, just sit back and wait. Don’t watch them too closely, though. Otherwise they’ll suspect you approve and will immediately stop doing it. Instead, expressly forbid your kids from eating dandelions ahead of time. Your children will graze your yard free of weeds within minutes. Dandelions don’t have much to offer in terms of calories, but at least you’ll have the nicest lawn of the apocalypse.

  FINISH YOUR FOOD

  Kids are suicidally stubborn. Convincing them to clean their plates is nearly impossible, and zombies won’t change that. It’ll take something more substantial than the end of the world to give your children an attitude adjustment. Stick with it, however, and with any luck your children will survive. And if they don’t, well, they’ll come back as zombies. At least then they’ll finally have a healthy appetite.

  CHAPTER 4

  WHAT’S YOURS IS MINE

  The zombie apocalypse won’t be all bad. Sure, billions of people will die, but there won’t be any more infomerci
als, road construction, or surprise visits from your in-laws. It’ll also be a golden age for looting. You’ll be able to take anything you want—assuming someone else doesn’t kill you to take it back. When you break in and seize stuff, you won’t be a criminal; you’ll be a survivor. You’ll get to seek out your own personal enrichment AND have the moral high ground. What a time to be alive.

  Once the smashing and grabbing starts, you and your children will finally have something in common. Acquiring stuff that isn’t yours is a natural human instinct. Never, since the birth of the human race, have little kids respected the personal property of others. Sharing is a learned behavior forced on the young to make them comply with the arbitrary standards of society. Taking, well, that comes naturally.

  Looting is the perfect bonding activity for parents and kids. As a mom or dad, you have the knowledge necessary to quickly locate and carry back survival supplies. Kids, meanwhile, have the small size and endless energy to check all the nooks and crannies you might overlook. When motivated by the prospect of personal gain, kids can keep going forever. Just make sure whatever you loot is sugar-free.

  SHOP TILL YOU DROP AND REANIMATE

  To prevent your kids from getting morally confused, don’t call your supply runs “looting.” Call them “shopping” and then never pay for anything. Children don’t understand how money works, anyway. Your kids won’t ask any questions as long as they get free stuff.

  Shopping with kids is perilous in normal times. In the zombie apocalypse it’ll get easier. If your kids break something in the middle of a store, you won’t have to buy it. When they steal stuff, no one will call the police. And no matter how badly your kids behave, there won’t be anyone left to judge your family. The fact that your kids are alive at all is a testament to your superior parenting skills—or random luck or zombie incompetence. Take your pick. But in the unlikely event you do encounter someone who judges you, don’t feel bad. Just rob them.

  HOLE IN THE WALL

  When scavenging for supplies, target out-of-the-way venues unlikely to attract either humans or zombies. Small businesses that always seem on the verge of closing are a great choice. Everyone ignored those “shop local” campaigns before the world ended, and there’s no reason that’ll change now. Capitalism is every bit as mindless and cruel as the undead.

  It’s a little extra work to take your kids on these expeditions, but it’ll pay off in the long run. Children are less likely to complain about whatever you bring home if they have a choice. They don’t, but your goal is to make them think they do. The illusion of free will stops humanity from spiraling into a vortex of nihilistic despair. Let your kids choose between two dented, unlabeled cans of mystery foodstuffs. Then when they’re not looking, throw both cans in the cart. If your children think they picked it out, they’ll be more likely to eat whatever is inside. They’ll have no one to blame for the awful taste but themselves, though they’ll still direct their anger at you. That’s how kids work.

  When you’re on a supply run, don’t let your kids out of your sight. Even if you stick to relatively safe looting spots, there could always be a stray zombie trapped in a bathroom somewhere. There are worse places to spend eternity. I’m looking at you, Minnesota during mosquito season. Keep your kids within arm’s reach so you can pull them out of harm’s way if necessary, but let them forage on their own within that radius. That leaves them free to crawl around on the ground and look for low stuff you might have missed. It’s always possible a box or can of food got knocked down when the initial wave of looters went through. Kids can also bend down and retrieve stray items while you remain upright. Your knees and back will thank you for this brilliant arrangement, even if your kids never do.

  As an added incentive, let your kids keep any money they find. Coins will be useless in the zombie apocalypse, but your children will feel like they came out ahead. This will make them more likely to risk their lives to help you find food. Just don’t let them eat any coins or stick them up their noses. That seems like common sense, but it’s not. Ingested pennies kill more kids every year than zombies ever will.

  MEALS ON WHEELS

  Whenever possible, use a shopping cart. It will let you haul more stuff, and in an emergency you can toss your kids in it and use it as a getaway vehicle. Plus, if you get a running start, you can jump on the back to glide effortlessly through stores. Unless the cart is empty or you’re fat, in which case it’ll tip over backward and your spouse will glower at you for the rest of the shopping trip. Not that that’s ever happened to me or anything.

  Don’t leave the shopping cart behind when you exit the store. It makes an excellent zombie battering ram, or so I’ve deduced from watching my kids push one. It’s certainly effective at knocking over store displays and other shoppers. If you live nearby, push the cart all the way home. If you don’t, toss the entire cart in the back of your vehicle. Packing individual items in your trunk in the middle of an exposed parking lot is an open invitation for an attack. Don’t expect zombies to warn you with an RSVP. Of course, a shopping cart well-laden with looted goods will be too heavy to lift. You’ll only be able to hoist it up if you fail as a gatherer. If my track record pre-apocalypse is any indication, I’ll be able to lift it every time.

  SAME AS CASH

  It will only take looters a matter of hours to strip popular stores of nearly all valuable provisions. Traveling around from one big box retailer to the next will be dangerous and inefficient. Everyone else will do the same thing, and where there are people, there are zombies. The only food in those stores will be you.

  Instead of seeking out food, target a durable good you can trade for it. The item you choose has to be universally in demand but in short supply. To make sure the market doesn’t get flooded, it has to be something the post-apocalyptic world can’t make. And finally, it has to be something everyone else will overlook so you have a chance to snatch it up before the rest of humanity realizes its mistake. There’s only one item that fits all those criteria. I’m talking, of course, about diapers.

  When I say diapers, I mean the disposable kind. Cloth diapers are a bad idea, regardless of the zombie situation. Throwing away a regular diaper takes ten seconds, but with cloth diapers, you have to spend hours washing, sanitizing, and drying them. That should be fun without working appliances. The only upside of cloth diapers is they’re supposedly better for the environment. But once the apocalypse hits, there won’t be any environment left to save. Zombies will eat everything cute and cuddly, and the only animals left will be the ones nobody cares about. No one is going to reuse dirty poop rags to save the garter snakes.

  In the zombie apocalypse, cloth diapers won’t be a pillar of green activism; they’ll be a sign of poverty. Survivors who are “rich”—the ones with the resources to live lives of relative ease compared to the rest of humanity—will use regular disposable diapers. The fundamental human condition is to be sick of dealing with other people’s crap. That’s literally what changing a diaper is. Anything that makes that process simpler will be as valuable as food or water. The joy of not having your house smell like baby poop is priceless—except on the free market, where it’ll have an exact monetary value.

  Diaper Value Estimates

  Quantity of Diapers

  Trade Value

  1

  Five cans of food, a six-pack of warm beer, or 2,000 old issues of National Geographic someone’s aunt saved in her attic because she thought they’d be worth something someday but now they’re just a fire hazard.

  10

  Fifty cans of food, a top-of-the-line racing bike with only a little bit of duct tape on the seat, or one can of cold beer that someone chilled by rowing out to an iceberg.

  20

  A pig, rent for one month in a medium-size New York apartment in a neighborhood where you may or may not get murdered, or an inflatable bounce house that you’ll have to blow up yourself since the fan won’t work anymore.

  50

  Someone’s
first-born child, the Mona Lisa plus a marker so you can sign it and say it’s by you, or an entire two-ton army truck full of cheese puffs. Somebody looted right.

  100

  Dowry for a new husband or wife (clear this with your current spouse first), the Empire State Building, or a horse that can stomp its foot the right number of times to answer basic math questions.

  1,000

  A duchy along with all associated lands and titles, a horse that can do calculus, or the world’s last bag of chocolate chips. I recommend option three.

  Even when the value of diapers is at its peak, you’ll still let babies poop in them. Without that basic function, diapers will be useless. Plus it’ll feel good. It’ll be like lighting a cigar with a hundred-dollar bill, but only if you destroyed the mint first so no other hundred-dollar bills could ever be created. With every dump a baby takes, your currency supply will diminish, but all remaining diapers will become more valuable. The last diaper on earth could buy an entire country. Too bad that country will be filled with walking corpses.

  Childless people will hoard diapers, too. Even if they don’t ever plan on having kids, a diaper stockpile will give them a bargaining chip to use with parents. The pool of potential customers is the entire human race. Parenthood can strike anyone without warning. Well, technically there are forty weeks of warning, but it still takes people by surprise somehow. Once the world ends, the only birth control method will be pulling out. If I had a kid for every time that didn’t work, I’d have four. Whether for trade or as a precaution against future life events, everyone will need diapers. They’ll be more valuable than gold and a lot easier to carry around. Good luck hauling gold bullion in a diaper bag.