Oneshot Post-post-apocalypse Quest

>>38052
it doesnt matter. take your shoes off. its going to be a long trip.

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>>38070
Well, instead of answering these questions for the audience (the type of apocalypse being kind of important to plot progression, OP makes an executive decision that it was a zombie outbreak), you just kick your shoes off, leaving your socks out to soak up sunlight.

Looking below you, you see that asshole TODD shamble on by, picking up your leathery footwear and gnawing on them with rotting, mangled flesh.

Asshole bullied you a lot in school, then became chief of police after graduation. And now here he is, ruining those shoes you spent good money on.

You can't exactly drive out to get new shoes, Todd.

Frustrated, you bring your beverage to your lips with a sigh, realizing the last few drops have been drunk.

>Now what?

I've got time.

>>38181
Either blast him with our now Solar-Powered socks, or just chuck the fukn bottle at him.

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>>38336
Ahaha, direct hit! Take that, officer asshole!

The undead Todd drops your slobbery, probably-now-infected shoes on the ground and looks in the direction of the plastic bottle that thunked against his head. Noticing a human being up on the roof, he lets out a lonely shamble and starts toward your front door.

Now you're out of your favorite drink and you've got this to deal with.

On the roof with you is a COOLER, a PORTABLE RADIO, and a TRAPDOOR BACK INTO YOUR HOUSE.

>Now what?

>>38485
magnetize the radio to our back using our magnetic shirt, and enter your Cooler. Then examine your surroundings for something to use or somewhere to go.

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>>38524
Clutching your radio tight to your magnet shirt in the hopes that it'll stick, you climb into the little cooler in the hopes of salvaging something you can use.

Nope, empty. And goddammit, the only place that stocks your favorite drinks is where they've quarantined off a whole dozen undead.

Oh, shit, you're slipping. Trying to squirm out as your cooler plummets off of the roof, you find yourself stuck, falling a full story to the ground below, hitting the grass of your unmoved lawn with a thud. Your radio stops making noises upon impact with the ground, but still appears to be in one piece, and...

Well, look who's there, just a couple meters away.

Hello, Todd.

>Now what?

>>38641
Blast him again with our solar charged socks, or head butt him with our superior forehead that can survive falls off of buildings. Eat any glass shards embedded in his forehead that attempt to stage a mutiny against our divine reign supreme.

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>>38669
Turning your socks into SOCKING socks, you give the deceased cop the full extent of your right hook, blocking your hands from his fetid mouth. His teeth barely draw blood, and he staggers back.

Seizing the opportunity, you use the very HARD HEAD he once mocked you for to smash the rotten skull in, Chief Todd falling before you.

Your hand is kinda sore and your head aches like hell from doing that, so you find yourself figuring you could really use a drink as you stand over the cop's dead body.

>What do?

>>38777
Take his gun. Hopefully he's packing real American .45 ACP.

>>38777
Head toward favorite drink area.

>>38777
Turn.

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>>38790
You don't know a thing about caliber, but you know enough about firearms to check this one out, see that it has all of six bullets left in it. And you've never fired it in your life, but there's not much to lose, right? You also return your SOCKING SOCKS to their feet and put your SLIGHTLY-CHEWED SHOES back on.

>>38800
You'll be fine, you're certain! You had protection on, after all.

>>38799
That being said, even with this in mind, you realize that six bullets isn't enough to kill a dozen zombies. You'll either need to get help, concoct a clever plan, or to throw caution to the wind if you want to survive to taste that good stuff one last time.

>What do?

>>38853
Hop on a bike, it's time to go and restock drinks

>>38877
+1

Restock Drinks

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>>38877
Alright, you figure, you need to find a bicycle to MAXIMIZE your speed in getting to and from the local 6/9 convenience store.

It's only a few minutes away anyway, but a means of transportation is always nice, especially under the circumstances.

Your closest living neighbors are far richer than you, and you know for a fact that they own at least one bicycle, but the patriarch was also VERY loud and boastful about how he kept a gun in the house. If you try to take the bike, you run the risk of encountering someone much better with a gun than you.

>What do?

Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>38950
Trip and fall.

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>>38976
Before you can even begin to ponder your next course of action, you trip and fall on the ground, calling out and swearing in frustration before writhing awhile.

You just sort of stay like that awhile, until the click of a pistol prompts you to look up.

Waving a gun in your face is that old rich bastard's daughter, eyeing your injured hand quite hostilely as she points gun at face. "Gimme one good reason not t'put you down here an' now."

>WHAT DO?

>>39060
Remain silent protagonist.

>>39060
...*Unzip*

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>>39066
>>39081
You continue to not say a word, balking at the idea of following the instructions of someone who tattoos "TRUMP" on her tits.

That being, said, speaking of her tits...

Okay, ow, ow, that is... 10 shots to the head. You're anticipating one afterlife or another any moment, but once the dust clears and your ears stop ringing...

"H-how in tarnation ain't you dead?!" The girl asks. "How hard is that damn head?!"

>What do?

Sexing is not an option. This is a christian containment board, dammit!

>>39147
Take her gun and slap her.

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>>39229
Taking advantage of her surprise, you yank the gun out of Trump Tits' hand and smack her with it.

Impressively, she remains conscious and coherent after this, merely falling to one knee and groaning.

"Grh... Yer' not just a zombie, huh? Yer' some kinda new hellspawn entirely... Look, jus' leave this here town be and I'll give ya whatever you want. M'family's got lots of stuff stockpiled away, so..."

She does make a compelling point... You could find out if she has those drinks you like!

>What request?

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>>39266
Fuck, I'm too tired to keep going.