I have about one or two a month. It's unfortunate that they almost always end horribly, bad. Guns don't work. Weapons become dull in my hands. I think it's symbolic of my own mental state. I'm usually pretty negative and I think this is my subconscious' way of punishing me. I don't think I've ever had one where I didn't get totally fucking owned.



) and three of my friends were pushing a giant steel barricade up against the door as zombies tried to bust through it, while another one of them beat the zombies off with a wooden sword. Eventually it got put up, and we all relaxed for a second...but then the windows shattered and zombies began pouring in from every which way. I began shooting them with my finger gun, as did my other friends except for the one with a wooden sword (which suddenly had giant spikes) and my other friend, who was shooting fireballs in random ass directions.
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