Zombies vs. Moms
by Emme McCarthy and Stan Cavanaugh
Once upon a time a kid was playing his video games all day. That kid woke up at 3:33am specifically to begin his game. It wasn’t even a fun game; it was about zombies and stupid people. It was 8 am now and his mom was calling him to breakfast. He didn’t answer. Instead, the mother’s call to her son was met with loud shooting and various exclamations of a certain word of “F.”
His mom was calling his name “Jacob,” “Jacob, time for breakfast.” He still didn’t come, so she just decided to clean her gun right in front of him. (It was a machine gun.) It released an average 91 bullets in a span of one minute. Jacob did not look up. Jacob sat there, cleaning his own gun of pixels on the television screen.
His mother glared at him with immense disdain. Then, she had an idea. She was “cleaning her gun,” and she shot Jacob 91 times in the heart. Jacob collapsed to the floor, sliding of the sweaty couch in which he had sat for hours. He was nearly split in half from the multiple bullet wounds his mother had inflicted. Her child looked up with eyes almost as bloody as his body and uttered “The graphics,” pausing to gather the remaining energy from the blood that hasn’t fully evaded veins “are so real.”
So this is the story of the mother who killed her kid.
What’s the moral of this?
Don’t play video games to much. By the way, dear reader, this was just a hallucination of Jacob.
Thank you.
