The zombie apocalypse began on a frigid February morning in Chicago when Mildred Cavanagh, age 82, slipped and fell while attempting to step around bum’s puke that crystallized on the sidewalk.
I walk into compartment three, and there he is, space trousers around his ankles and cock in hand. Let loose on him this time. Told him that if I ever saw the shriveled little peg ever again, I would cut the goddamned thing off with pliers. The crew has had an agreement this entire mission, to wait until the others are sleeping, and to do it as covertly as is possible when you're sharing a tin can 23 million miles from Earth's surface.