"Where the hell did you get your license??" cried the now-deceased patient's sister.
"Canada," Sam flatly replied. Ignoring the further sobs and screams of the newest person to join the ranks of those who hated him, Dr. Sam Logan sauntered off down the hallway to make a report to the head neurologist and make his rounds.
This is merely a simple example of Dr. Logan's... ineptitude.
As he mentioned, he received his schooling, internment, and brain surgery license in Canada. While the board of Mid-West Medical and Emergency realized that this meant Sam would probably do better operating on people's brains while drunk rather than sober, they still hired him due to a recent shortage in doctors. Thanks to the recent draft, most of America's doctors had been sent off to the war-front on Mars. Sam had avoided the draft due to his extended residency in another country. Furthermore, there was little worry of malpractice law-suits thanks to various new laws and policies and extremely strict medical-release wavers that had been put into place by virtually every medical institution on the planet.
Yeah, the world was becoming shittier and shittier.
Little did people know that Dr. Sam Logan was actually much smarter than many believed.
Of course his pet cat, Patrick, knew exactly what Sam was capable of, but since no one ever asked him, Patrick never volunteered the information. Besides, he figured that the oncoming apocalypse of the human race would give him the opportunity to take control of the world like he had always dreamed of...
Dr. Sam Logan was 57 years old when his plan began to take motion. It was October 31, 1949 when his former patients began to rise from the grave.
Yes, the zombie apocalypse was upon us. The extremes of the caste system were the first to go. The poor, with little to protect themselves with, had little chance to begin with. Meanwhile, the rich, often overreacting and over-thinking spent their money, time, and resources on all the wrong things. Ranging from reinforced steel bunkers to arsenals of tanks (a wooden door would hold a zombie back for weeks, and a well placed bullet from any gun would immobilize it for good), they didn't stock up on essentials like a means to obtain food after supplies ran out (just as an example.) That's not to say everyone failed to take the proper measures, but those who did often became the target of mobs seeking shelter. The most prudent of the rich chose to escape to Mars before things got too ugly.
The middle class fared well. At first, at least. Used to making do with what they had and using resources to their full potential, many managed to live until the apocalypse ran its course. I'd like to think that the gamers and nerds were among those who fared best, but honestly, there was little evidence of that.
Despite man-kind's ability to survive the greatest tragedy to ever plague the planet (besides the invention of hot dogs), they lost the rank of alpha-predator. Patrick (Sam's cat) led a revolution, uniting all the felines of the world, both large and small, in a brilliant overthrow of a species domination that had lasted millions of years. Yes, it was a historic event indeed.
As for what happened to the infamous Dr. Sam Logan, we only know this much: In the spirit of all crazy mad-scientists (for that was truly what he was), he ended up offering himself up to his creation. If you haven't figured it out, that essentially meant throwing himself into a mob of zombies to be torn into hundreds of pieces as the living dead consumed every bit of his flesh.
Disgusting, I know.
The moral of this story is this: Don't ever, EVER let Sam Logan become a neurosurgeon.
THE END!
I sorta rushed this one but what didja think? Like it? Got occupations you wanna see in the future? Post your comments below!
