by William Bebb
Everyone thought being a big guy was a blessing, but Josey knew better. With the exception of being able to make a barricade out of a collection of rusty major appliances during a thankfully rare zombie attack, being a big man sucked. Standing over six feet tall he'd occasionally suffered back pains and even managed to throw it out completely a couple of times. Plus when you're tall, it's much farther when you fall down to the ground whether due to a bout of drinking or being surprised by a pack of apparent zombies in a dilapidated trailer park on an undeniably atypical Monday morning. Finally, there was Josey's most hated thing about being big and tall. There always seemed to be plenty of short bastards that wanted to impress someone by starting a fight to demonstrate how tough they were.
It was more annoying than anything else. Little guys would sometimes come up, bump into him on purpose, and try to start a fight when all Josey wanted was a few minutes to enjoy a beer or hang out with some friends at a bar. Typically, he always tried to follow the principle of live and let live. However, when pushed too far, Josey had many times managed to send several short guys, with apparent inferiority complexes, to various medical facilities.
Of course, Josey knew, the dirty little secret is that it's always a winning scenario for the little guy who gets a big guy to fight him. If the little guy wins it's always a David vs. Goliath victory. But even if he gets the snot kicked out of him, the little guy still can come away saying the big guy wouldn't have won if they'd both been the same size.