I was out on the Third Street Promenade when I heard this huge rumbling in the sky. I looked up and saw the biggest military copters ever flying up the coastline. They turned right up over Santa Monica. I had no idea what was going on. Suddenly, they open fire. They were shooting into the street. I had know idea what the fuck was going on. I thought that it was a terrorist attack. I ran into the Apple store. People were on Twitter trying to find out what was happening.. None of it made sense to me. I just wanted to live through the night. We stayed in that store for 30 long minutes. Then I heard a massive stampede of people running past the promenade. Everyone in the Apple store started running. We all ran towards the beach, towards the water. The flesh eaters where coming for all of us. I saw a women run past me with half her face ripped off. I ran down the Santa Monica pier. Then we all jumped into the water. We saw the copters open up and kill the flesh eaters and some of the civilians on the beach. I lived that day. But I have nightmares about that moment almost everyone. If I keep having those nightmares, I may kill myself. Honestly, live just wouldn’t be worth it having to live with those images in my head.
That night we started getting reports of mass desertions across all of the military branches as well as law enforcement. The threat of field executions, the enticement of food and water was no longer enough. These service people and law enforcement officers went to take care of their families. Others just felt that it wasn’t worth it anymore. The President was inroute to a secure location. We had to report to the Commander-In-Chief that the United States, on a Federal level, was no longer functional.
That night in Manhattan was eerie. You heard the sounds of Blackhawks patrolling the sky and not much else. There were no sirens. You didn’t seen any National Guard nor law enforcement vehicles on the road. I think I saw one car go by. A Rolls Royce. It was speeding out of the city. Some billionaire was making his way out. The streets were carpeted in blood, guts and bones. You could see people dying, begging for us to kill them. I thought about biting into their flesh. I was that hungry. But I knew that once I got a taste for it, there would be no turning back.
About a dozen of us met up somewhere on the Upper East Side. None of us knew each other. But we all knew we were in the same situation. We were trapped on Manhattan Island. We were rich and we were flesh eaters. We were caught in the middle. The first thing we knew was that staying on the street wasn’t safe. There could be more flesh eaters in the city. And the Blackhawks were shooting at anything that moved. We looks at the town homes and knew we had to squat into one of those place. Some of the town homes were abandoned. Some of them were still occupied by the ultra wealthy. “Fuck it. Let’s take over one of the occupied town homes.” Someone yells. He was saying what we were all thinking.
But most of us, as hungry as we were, didn’t want to just do a home invasion. We wanted to try to work a trade. Get some food in return for helping to secure the block. However, this guy was rapid. He mentioned that, “Those wealthy fucks caused this. You know what, we should feed them to the flesh eaters.” At that point, all of us began to feel the same way.
My military escort abandoned me in the city. I was scared to death. I just wanted to get off of the island. As I walked the streets, I began to make peace with the fact that I would die tonight. I decided that I would make one last walk to the Upper East Side. I wanted to lay my eyes on those beautiful, opulent town homes before some horrible fate took me. After seeing all the starvation, death, anger and madness, I just wanted to lay my eyes on some form of beauty.
I get up there and I begin to hear screaming. It wasn’t the screaming of flesh eaters. These were people! I began to feel a little bit of hope. If I could meet up with these people, we could work together to get off of the island.
Well, I get up to this beautiful town home. One of the few town homes still occupied by the members of the ultra-rich. I see the door open. I smell food. I smell beef, vegetables. My God, I hadn’t smelled food like that in years. I just stand in front of the town home for a moment. Then I see about a group of skinny, angry people pull out this family of well-fed rich people.
The group took the family out of their homes. As a member of the press, I was all too familiar with this situation. A group of starving people taking over a home of the rich to rob them of their food. I’ve covered stories like this before.
However, it wasn’t long until I realized that this situation was different. I saw the bodies of four body guard taken out of the townhouse. I walked up to one of the members of the mob and asked what was going on. The group invaded the house. Six members of the group were killed by the bodyguards before they took over the townhouse.
They take the entire family —a mother, a father and two young boys. They tied the family in the middle of the street and left them there. The rest of the mob walked back into the townhouse. I looked at the well-fed family screaming and crying. The mob was leaving the family in the street for the flesh eaters.
When the group disappeared into the town home, I ran to the family and untied them. They thanked me. The father took his family and darted off towards the park. They didn’t even think about trying to take back their home and their food. I knew then that this situation had taken a horrific new turn.
We started talking on Twitter about the military and law enforcement desertions. The United States government had become a failed state. There was no food and no order. People felt that now they could take their revenge on the rich, who stole the wealth of the planet for themselves. Everyone tweeted “Feed The Rich,” “Feed The Rich” over and over again. All of us knew what that meant —take down the fortified estates of the wealthy, seize their resources and leave them for the flesh eaters.
I knew this shit was going to happen sooner or later. They were gonna come after the people with money. I told my wife that was going to happen five years ago. And at that time I purchased one hundred acres in Wyoming with a plan to make a last stand bunker with my own personal security army, five years of food and enough resources to outlast the uprising. But you know what? I paid seven and a half million dollars for a view of the Pacific Ocean from my La Jolla mansion. Why the fuck should I leave that? I built my investment firm from my Irvine apartment to building the wealth that I have. Why should I hide in some bunker in the middle of nowhere?
We stayed in La Jolla. And thankfully other residents around me decided to do the same. We pool together our money to create our own personal 24 hour security around our beach community. So when the mob came, our security people cut them down. We killed hundreds of those motherfuckers. And I continued to eat my steak with a view of the Pacific Ocean each and every night afterwards.
I was being paid in food, gas, gold and pussy. My boss was a big, big name in entertainment and he took care of us. All twenty of us. But I will tell you, there was a time when I thought about leaving. Alpine is just across the river from Manhattan and we could see the fires, we could see the Blackhawks and you could smell the death.