Three.  The number of infected I killed today.

I use the word killed loosely, because technically, they were already dead.


Two.  The amount of times I almost died in the attempt.

If anything, I was lucky.  My attackers were already in varying states of advanced decay.  A couple of Twitchers, that seemingly limped out of Rigor Mortis a considerable few days ago.  Their stiffness replaced by jerky limb movement and sporadic head spasms.  The other was a Rotter that was decomposing on the ground, snapping its teeth in an attempt to get at me.  If they were all running and hysterically screaming, I wouldn’t have survived with just a crow bar to defend myself.  The Screechers — those newly turned motherfuckers — they’re vicious and freakishly fast on their feet.  For some reason, they let out a piercing cry as they run after their prey.  I haven’t heard anything as high pitched since Justin Bieber hit puberty.  You’d think that was a good thing because the sound alerts you to their presence.  While that’s true, it’s also terrifying because you know they’re there.  And they will come after you if they see you.


If they see you, run like a fucking cheetah.


Hell, and all because I wanted maple syrup with my pancakes.  But what kind of psycho eats pancakes without maple syrup?


I made a mental note to do a more thorough perimeter check next time I break into a seemingly empty house.  Not only do I not want to accidentally steal people’s supplies if they just stepped out for a few minutes, but they also might have turned.  Scavenging in the suburbs may be less risky than the supermarkets, but it’s still dangerous when you’re alone.  A breakfast condiment is not worth being a flesh eater’s snack.

Unless salted caramel ice cream is involved.  Right now, I’d prostitute myself for a pint.


I set aside the bottle of O’Canada on my kitchen counter and dumped flour into a bowl.  I reached out and turned on the portable radio.  Static, then more static.  Then the looped broadcast.  The world was still fucked as I whisked in the eggs.

all major ports are closed. Do not go to the airport.  Do not go to the ferry.  Keep clear of the State Highways.  We are in a state of emergency…remain in your homes, barricade all windows and doors await news of quarantine sites and safe zones.

Avoid getting bitten at all costs this is how the infection is spreaddo not engage the



One.  One bite is all it takes.















lemonandpecan_pancakepoppers_04   lemonandpecan_pancakepoppers_05







  • 200 grams (around 2 cups ) SELF RAISING FLOUR
  • 1/2 teaspoon BAKING POWDER
  • 1/2 teaspoon BAKING SODA
  • 3/4 teaspoon SALT
  • 2 1/2 tablespoon BROWN SUGAR
  • 50 grams PECANS (I bashed mine with a mug), crushed
  • 50 grams BUTTER, melted
  • 125 ml MILK
  • 125 grams YOGURT (Vanilla, Natural or Greek)
  • 2 (size 7) EGGS
  • 1 teaspoon VANILLA EXTRACT
  • 2 large BANANAS, sliced into circles
  1. Preheat to 180°C.
  2. Grease your preferred pan. For this recipe, I utilized a Cake Pop pan, but a doughnut-hole or mini-muffin pan would work as well.
  3. Combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, brown sugar, and pecans in a large bowl.
  4. In a separate bowl, whisk the milk, yogurt, eggs, and vanilla extract together.
  5. Pour the wet ingredients onto the dry ones, and mix with a spatula.
  6. Add the melted butter, and stir until the batter is smooth.
  7. Spoon the batter into the pan holes, lightly pressing a banana slice in each, before continuing to fill to capacity.
  8. Bake for 15 minutes.
  9. Transfer to a plate, and drizzle maple syrup on top.

Makes: 24 Poppers




Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *