Hell Be Your Tour Guide For The Afternoon.

He’ll be your tour guide for the afternoon.

Wearing a mask to every concert and appearance he made for the band, did spark some confusion. While the answer he gave in interviews was that he wanted people to focus more on his singing and the music, the real reason was that he was way to shy to show his face to that many people at once, especially with the chance of being famous. You'd think that the rest of him would be immediately recognizable, but with some baggy sweatpants he could go out in public without anyone knowing he was the lead signer for one of the most popular metal bands in recent memory.

I wish I had an easier way to explain this.

I first met him around 5 months ago, pretty soon after the beginning of the infections. I was running away from a horde of about 5 zombies when I tripped over some debris, landing face first onto the concrete. Before they could tear me limb from limb, he shot 3 of them and that scared the others off. I kind of followed him around for the next couple weeks, letting him protect me while I went and gathered food and hunted animals. We worked well, but we didn't talk much. I didn't know his name, and soon enough we got attacked by some roaming band of assholes and we agreed to split up to lay low and find each other again later.

We didn't find each other until about a month ago. I was scavenging again, and then i saw him, but something was wrong. He was still him ,but his body was bloated with hundreds of pounds of muscle, with glassy eyes and graying skin. He got infected.

I held up the gun I had, the one he trained me to use pointed right at his own skull, and held my finger over the trigger, but I couldn't do it. he was the only guy I had been around since the world went to shit, I had fantasized about finding him again every night, and I couldn't just blow his brains out. So I held my hands over my head, curled up into a ball and cried, waiting for him to tear into me.

However, he didn't do that. He just stood there, staring at me. It took hours before I got the courage to get up and run away, and he just trudged over to me again, standing right next to me. He just kept following me around like a lost puppy.

I know it sounds crazy, but I think he could be cured. He isn't aggressive like the others. There's actual thought to his actions, and sometimes I can even hear him say sometimes, when he thinks I'm asleep.

Last night I even heard him say my name.

Did you bring the stuff? Yeah I know we ran through a 4 month supply in just one month but, like, come on man. Look at us. We're blowing the fuck up. We can't stop now. So, did you bring it?

I was cleaning out my closet yesterday and I found my old yearbook, which I somehow forgot about. Here's a photo of my old English teacher. It was insanely hard to focus in his class as a closeted gay teenager, but I still was such a teacher's pet with him. It's kind of obvious why now.

"I ain't too used to all of this office work yet, but it ain't that bad. It's a lot easier to go all out in the gym now that I'm now tiring myself out at work. Results kind of speak for themself at this point, and my boyfriend sure does like it."