I grabbed the shotgun and headed for the door. Around me, crowds of rabbits recoiled in fear. Outside, two children with baskets of eggs and faces full of fear huddled on my doorstep.
"Get in!" I yelled, pulling them into the house hastily. Throwing a worried glance around, I locked the door, and double-checked the window barricades.
Outside, it is Easter. The reanimated corpse of our Lord and Saviour ambles through the countryside, feasting on eggs, rabbits and all who stand in his way.
Darkness falls, and I prepare to get through the night. Arming the children with whatever was at hand and telling them not to open the door for anyone but me, I set off into the country. There's talk of a colony off-land, where Jesus cannot reach. As for myself, I'm going to see if I can get petrol. If we can get moving, there might be hope. Every year, it's getting worse, I tell you.
Well, at least I'm not Jewish...