Football Man

This page is rated G+ for Light Horror Themes.

Stay safe, they'd say. Stay in isolation, they'd say. Engage in social distancing, they'd say. ''And whatever you do, don't go outside. Or you might turn into a zombie.''

The football man didn't listen. He didn't need to. He'd heard the warnings once and didn't need to hear them again. Right now, all that mattered was that everyone's food got to them, and fresh at that.

Before the zombie outbreak, he'd been a hardcore sports enthusiast. When he wasn't playing football or watching it, he'd spend hours driving his bike around, sometimes on the most dangerous streets for the fun of it. Now, he was able to put his bicycling and football skills together to give people fresh food even in streets filled with zombies.

It wasn't all that hard for him. All he had to do was get the deliveries, drive them up to the right doors, carry over the food, and go on to the next house. The zombies might have been a problem, except that they knew better than to cause trouble for the football man. Trying to tackle a 6'2", 245-pound man with a football helmet and shoulder pads wasn't a smart idea, and they knew it. Oh sure, he'd gotten some funny looks when he showed up for food deliveries wearing full football gear, but it was worth it to drive off the zombies.

What was more of a problem was who to work for giving out the food. There were half a dozen companies giving out the food, none of whose names the football man cared to keep in mind. He'd just call them all Fresh. Fresh 1, Fresh 2, didn't matter to him as long as they'd let him deliver the food. They often wouldn't, not wanting to pack in the new employees, which is why he was working for Fresh 3 at the moment. He didn't know how long that would last, but as long as it did, he was going to get that fresh food to everyone.

Sometimes things happened that were funny to look back on later. Back when he wasn't so sure that the zombies were scared of the football man, he'd had the misfortune to deliver directly to a zombie. He'd had to drop the food on the doorstep and sprint away like his life depended on it, which it might have. When he'd looked back to see if it was chasing him, he'd seen the zombie with a carton of spinach in its mouth, trying to chew through the plastic. It looked like the zombies still needed their greens and knew how to order them, but they sure didn't know how to eat. That, or plastic wasn't poisonous to them. Either way, he sure was glad to have that order done with.

All in all, it wasn't that bad a job. All he had to do was be the football man, and everything turned out all right. Sure, it might have been tough at times, but it sure beat doing nothing in the midst of all the zombies.