Aaron headed inside and was immediately apprehended by his supervisor. "Hey! do you have any idea how much product we had to scrap because of your-" Aaron shut the bathroom door behind him. He wondered if Brett would be in today. Suddenly, as if stabbed in the colon, Aaron buckled over and gasped. The dry toast had upset his delicate tummy, and it was time to vacate his bowels. For the next half hour he proceeded to produce from his digestive tract the kind of movement that would make an atheist pray for salvation.
Without flushing, or washing his hands, Aaron finally came out of the bathroom to see everyone rushing to the break room. After following, he realized that the news channel was talking about "apocalypse" and "zombies" and "don't panic." Everyone was panicking though... Everyone clamored to gather their things and rush out the door, until-
A brawny, masculine man named Pat Jonas climbed atop a table and shouted to address everyone. "Everybody Stop." His baritone, authoritative voice halted everyone in their tracks and all eyes moved to meet him. With heroic posture, he scanned his comrades and cleared his throat. "Nobody is going anywhere. Your families are already dead."
Everyone sort of nodded in passive agreement. The apocalypse had been going on for a good ten minutes now, so he was probably right. "The only way we survive this-" He continued, "Is by working together." He projected, his muscular chest swelling with badassery. "We board up those windows," He pointed "Close up and block all shipping doors, then meet back in here."
Nobody questioned Pat's instructions and got to work immediately.
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