The “Change”, the unofficial, understated euphemism we now use to refer to what is in actuality the SHTF, end of the world, zombie apocalypse. Speculate away about what actually ripped society down to it’s foundations, some new wonder virus, spontaneous evolution caused by climate change, the wrath of God; it doesn’t change the fact that over 80% of the world’s population turned into rabid flesh munching maniacs in a matter of weeks. Now as the last of us try to recover, and piece together what we can from our previous lives it may be time to understand our enemy.
Bob was just another wannabe rocker, three chords and a dream of being a superstar. Bouncing from band to band, or rather getting bounced when his need to party outweighed his meager talent. Bob would sign on with any band willing to take him on as a guitarist, or when his beat up Stratocaster was in pawn, as a singer. Bob’s style could best be described as two cats and a squirrel tied into wet pillowcase armed with rotary grinders; true talent, very few people can achieve that with their voice AND 6 string. As the initial reports of the Change started to flood the internet Bob was living in his mom’s basement, spending his days panhandling, and his nights drinking on the cheap looking for a gig.
When things really started to breakdown, and containment policies turned into survival contingencies, Bob decided that evacuating the city was a good idea, but not until he did a little shopping. Bob’s first stop, Fat Eddies Guitar Emporium, it would also be his last stop. Sure most people might take a moment to prioritize their needs in a moment like this, but as Bob hefted a brick and busted the plate glass window his thoughts were all about how much he could fit into his ’81 Honda Civic. Most people would also really consider how loud the alarm bell was and think about just what it might attract. Not Bob, a life spent wishing for the limelight, was not going to be obstructed by the end of the world. Bob was wrestling a Marshall stack towards the door, and figuring out how to tie it to the roof of the car when the pack shambled into the parking lot. When the zombies reached the window, Bob’s survival instincts finally clicked, and he used the only useful talent a life of playing in dive bars had taught him, when the crowd wants blood run for the back door. He might have made it if not for the pile of cables he had set aside. Bob might as well have set a bear trap on the floor, the effect would have been the same, landing him face down inches from the stock room door. Clawing for the door he dragged himself towards safety trying to untangle himself from the cables, kicking frantically the entire way. As he pushed the door shut behind the bite on his leg was already beginning to fester, and it was only minutes before Bob made his encore appearance.
Biohazard Bob now lurks the alleys and bars that were the focus of his life. Even though most zombies are not strictly nocturnal, Bob prefers the shadows and the dark, and we should all thank God that the power is out as Bob still tries to sing and strangle songs out of a guitar. Bob is always ready to put on a show, when someone stumbles into a bar he has nested in looking for booze and pork-rinds; he loves sitting down to have a bite with them before the show.
Biohazard Bob is available as a full color 12″ x 18″ target printed on 70 lb paper from YKY Limited. He is one of three zombies included in the Zombie Apocalypse 12 pack or go ahead and order a bulk lot. Bob even is one of the buttons featured in our button pack. Easy to score, fun to shoot. Perfect for range days, training, or even framing, order today and share your shooting experiences on the YKY Facebook Page. Go on… order, you know you want to.
When the Zombie Apocalypse comes …