An Overly-Long Limerick About The Legend Of Biker Steve

Jan 14, 2018
Adelaide, South Australia
"Bad Poetry", eh? Well, you asked for it...

... and you can blame my watching (for the umpteenth time) Firefly's "A Man Called Jayne" episode for kickstarting my need to write this piece of tripe :poop:


I'm sure you've all heard the tale of Biker Steve
That tiny little guy; the Swine and Bovine's pet peeve
Who gets his dander up when the clientele
Are all construction workers and longshoremen; shirts sporting cut-off sleeves

This guy's 115 pounds soaking wet, I believe
And still has the stones to go up to big-ass dudes like these
Unleashing a tirade of insults, ignoring pleas for him to leave
Cops armed with tasers struggled to retrieve
That piled-on, bloodied lunatic called Biker Steve

So when you're sitting there
With all your community all aggrieved
Keep everyone's hopes up with thinkin' he's still out there
'Cause I'm sure that any community
Would be happy to receive
That grinning nutter known as Biker Steve
As we can be sure that the zeds would get no reprieve!


(and he BETTER be in SOD2 as a character!)


Missing Survivor
Jan 10, 2018
Found it:

The Biker’s Fate

For me—or anyone else “lucky” enough to be alive.

We’d have enough money saved up by the end of the next summer to leave the Valley for good. I was going to find a cozy receptionist job and Tommy could continue to drive trucks in and out of Danforth without the long commute. Why we settled on Danforth had little to do with preference and more to do with an growing anxiety to leave the valley. We didn’t want to waste our life here. We didn’t want to die here.

Thirty days after the outbreak—It was time to check out of the disease infested shit hole in unorthodox fashion. You listen to the sirens, you lose the power, and the screams from people go on night after night and you wish they’d just stop until they actually do. Then you wonder every time if that’s it, if you’re all alone now. You hear the constant grunts and groans, and then comes an occasional shriek or roar that fills you with terror. Because you know they found more food.

They’ve found someone just like you.

A lot of nights Tommy would just cover my ears so I could try and sleep, but I’d end up soaking his jacket with my tears thinking of everything and everyone that we lost. I’d met a lot of losers in my life, and I don’t know why I settled on Tommy. He was scrawny, and it was like he had been born in the wrong era where all he knew was how to get into trouble. He drank too much and started fights for no goddamn reason which he knew he couldn’t finish. Once even in a Swine and Bovine—I always knew how to pick them. Part of me naively thought I could fix him. Maybe moving out of Trumbull Valley to Danforth would keep him too busy to do any of that. But now I know he never needed to be fixed.

Maybe it was instinct. But when the reports to stay in our homes came out, it was Tommy who always remained a step ahead. He got us the food. He got us the bullets. He got all the supplies we needed to survive. It just took the apocalypse to wake him up, and he awoke completely sober.

But it did the opposite to me. I’d seen too much. And when I told him I couldn’t go on, that I didn’t want to, Tommy did everything he could to try and persuade me. At times he convinced me, and other times he didn’t. If it weren’t for Tommy, I would have left a lot sooner. There really was no point in continuing. The army had quarantined us, but we knew things were even worse over the wall when the convoys pulled out and communication became non-existent. All in all I guess we considered ourselves lucky.

Then Tommy got bit.

He had told me a few months back on our ten-month anniversary together that he’d follow me anywhere. And while I was impressed he had stuck around as long as he did, I never learned to let my guard down completely—I dated his Peter Pan posse my entire life and I knew how it’d end. The day after he was bit though I told him I didn’t want to go on without him. Maybe it was his fear of me being hunted by the feral that had plagued the neighborhood, but he finally cracked and offered me a solution that didn’t include a bullet.

We waited until dusk, tucked away in our new home—The Fork in the Road Diner. It was a step up from our shack we had been living in and the closest thing to the one-room apartment in Danforth like we’d dreamed of for so long. He only had two pills and I knew better than to ask where he had gotten them from, or how long he had been sitting on them.

It was supposed to be painless.

Tommy pulled two dusty glasses off the shelf as we sat at the bar. He poured the remaining water from my bottle into the glass and looked up at me. I guess we’re all just one bite away from a bad day, now. I took mine with the water he had poured. Tommy took his with the first and last gulp of whiskey he had had since the outbreak started. Sweat dripped down his face as the fever was growing more intense and I helped him walk around to behind the counter. We made ourselves comfortable and lied down across from each other. He smiled. I cried. For the first time I finally accepted deep down he was doing this for me. That he really did love me that much. He wiped my cheek, and we both fell asleep taking with us all of our hopes and dreams of a family together.

I awoke to the sound of scraping against the glass door toward the front of the diner. When I tried to move I was greeted with a burning sensation in my stomach that made me grit my teeth and realize my mouth tasted like decay. That’s when I realized the state I was in. I shook Tommy violently but he wouldn’t wake up for obvious reasons that my panicked mind couldn’t comprehend at the time. One of the windows gave in and I heard the plop of a body spill onto the foyer floor. I reached for my pistol on my hip, but then realized we had left all of our worldly possessions with a group of roaming survivors we met in passing—some cute girl and her creepy mortician friend.

I feel bad in retrospect that I didn’t even think about Tommy as another window shattered—except that he couldn’t protect me the way he had done since the day I had met him. But the thought of being eaten alive drove me into a panic and I wanted nothing but to escape, and so I did. I took the keys out of his jacket and crawled slowly to my feet with the help of the counter, and I limped out through the back of the diner as I heard sloppy footsteps on the tile of the diner chasing behind me. I thrust myself onto the motorcycle we had ridden all over the valley in our past year together, and without even turning back to pay respects to the man I loved and had loved me so completely…

I left the best part of me behind.