Chester A. Arthur XVII sat on the front steps of his apartment building, cigarette in hand, watching the oncoming zombie horde.
“Braaaaiiiinsss,” said one of the zombies.
“Mrrroarrrgh,” said another.
They shuffled across the parking lot of the complex. Slowly.
Chester A. Arthur XVII, cigarette between his lips, continued to sit on his steps and watch the oncoming zombie horde.
“Guuuuurrrgghhh,” said a zombie.
“Murrrrrrr,” said a different one.
The lead zombie’s arm fell off.
“Buh?”
Three other zombies fell down for entirely unrelated reasons.
Two more turned to the left and lumbered toward a squirrel. Then they fell down, too.
“Moooooooorgh,” said the re-animated corpse of a cow.
“OK,” said the seventeenth clone of assorted residual genetics of the twenty-first President of the United States of America, raising an eyebrow. “Fuck this.”
Chester A. Arthur XVII picked up his axe.
“Look,” he said, approaching the approaching horde. “As I’m sure you are all well aware, I am going to dismember you, with extraordinary violence and speed, and then I am going to set you on fire. However, what you may not know is that I am exceptionally tired this evening and I would prefer not to exert myself physically, if at all possible. I think it would be in everyone’s best interests if you were to simply turn around and stumble away, relocating your ungodly marionette show to some other apartment building.”
The horde quickened its pace.
Well, kind of.
“Grrraaaaaaaagghghhghh!” shouted several of the zombies.
“Blllarrgggh,” said a few others.
“Faaaaaakkkkkkk groooooo,” said one particularly contentious zombie, raising the stump of his right arm.
“That was just uncalled for.”
The zombie in question waggled its stump in reply.
Chester A. Arthur XVII shrugged, then looked at his watch.
“…and, go!”
Chester A. Arthur XVII charged at the horde, beheading the three lead zombies with a single swing of his axe. He took the legs off four more with the next slice. The following three arcs connected with a skull, a face, and a jaw, respectively.
It went on like that for another few minutes, until the parking lot was nothing more than an unsightly heap of assorted zombie pieces.
“Moooooorrrk.”
And one very confused, undead cow.