I have a confession to make.
I’m the non-apocalyptic member of the Romance Writers of the Apocalypse.
I DO write romance (among other things) and I am more than willing to get violent with the zombie hordes, when they arrive. I’m stockpiling cricket bats and learning karate so I will be able to play my part at the barricades.
So I guess I have the ‘get fit’ and ‘be violent’ part down.
But my poor heroines don’t get up to a lot of smut, mostly because they run out of time. Sadly, for my status as a RWoftheA, this is not because they are fighting off the undead, or tangling with the wrath of God. It’s more likely to be because they have dug themselves into a hole and are too busy digging themselves out. My heroines are feisty and like to kick arse, but they are prone to be a bit indiscriminate about which arses they kick. Which leads not so much to the world ending, as them wishing it would.
It’s a different kind of apocalypse, but what it shares with the more normal kind is that once it’s happened, it can’t be avoided and you just have to get on and make the most of it. (Or rather, they do. I just do the torturing. Mwahahahaha.)
But I do love my properly apocalyptic friends and the dangerous, smutty worlds they create and I’m determined to learn more world-endy ways. I’m reading their books (my blood pressure is holding up but only just) and I have also turned (as all good writers do) to the internet.
Along the way, I found the pictures that accompany this post. Aren’t they cool?
Oh all right. I admit that I chose them not because the zombies were scary but because they appear to be doing the Time Warp. But all praise to FreeDigitalPhotos.net for providing them. It’s not their fault I amuse easily.
Better still, I found this site. Yes, it’s a game. And yes, it’s a little bit cute. But it’s a zombie-beating game! And it’s given me ideas for proper monster-beating tactics, for when the shit starts to go down.
So if anyone wants me, I’ll be building a greenhouse out the back. Because you never know when things are going to get real. And I really don’t want to find, come the day, that the girls are only keeping me to feed me to the horde…
*The title of this post is, of course, a lie. I can't play piano well enough to be the resident entertainment. But I thought 'I'm just the mascot' was just ASKING to be thrown to the oncoming hordes!
And in case anyone is getting any ideas, I should tell you that I CAN sing, and if you let me be zombified, you run the risk of this (see right) leering in your window. Just sayin'...