I sat cross-legged on my couch, staring at the lamp with the intensity of a man about to make a terrible life choice. "Alright, Janno. Second wish."
The genie materialized with his usual dramatic flair, though this time he looked slightly apprehensive. "Let me guess - unlimited pizza? Eternal youth? A harem of—"
"I want a zombie apocalypse," I declared. "In three months, three zombies will appear simultaneously in China, India, and the USA. Infection rate of five minutes. Zombies similar to The Walking Dead but slightly faster." I grinned. "Just enough to keep survivors on their toes."
Janno's blue face went pale. "You... you want to end civilization as we know it?"
"Not end it," I corrected. "Improve it. Think of it as... population control with style."
The lamp began vibrating violently on my coffee table. Janno looked at it with growing horror. "Oh no. Oh nononono—"
A celestial iPhone materialized in his hand. He punched a speed-dial number and screamed into it: "CODE BLACK! I REPEAT, CODE BLACK! WE'VE GOT A CLASS 10 CHAOS EVENT IN PROGRESS!"
---
### **Emergency Pantheon Meeting (Extended Cosmic Edition)**
The divine conference room—which suspiciously resembled a corporate boardroom if corporate boardrooms had pillars of eternal flame and a snack bar serving ambrosia—erupted into chaos as gods from every pantheon materialized.
The Goddess of Loophole Abuse banged her gavel (which was actually the preserved femur of the first mortal who tried to wish for more wishes). "Order! Emergency session 6,942-B is now in session! On the docket: One Ron Heard's second wish—global undead apocalypse."
Zeus appeared in a burst of ozone and poor decisions, his toga barely containing his divine wrath. "WHO DARES—wait, is this the same mortal who—"
"Yes," sighed the Goddess. "The one you gave an 8/10 in 'disappointed but intrigued.'"
Lucifer strolled in late, sipping what appeared to be a damned caramel macchiato. "Sorry I'm late. Was corrupting a televangelist. You wouldn't believe how little effort that takes these—oh!" He spotted the hologram displaying my wish. "Is this my new favorite little agent of chaos?"
Michael the Archangel materialized in a blaze of righteous fury. "THIS IS AN OUTRAGE! A BLASPHEMY! A—"
"—technically permissible under subsection 42-C of the Wish Accord," interrupted the Goddess, flipping through a glowing tome. "No love spells, no resurrection of specific individuals, no wishing for more wishes... but global undead plague? That's in the gray area."
Athena facepalmed so hard it echoed through dimensions. "Of course it is. Who wrote these rules?"
Loki, who had somehow already stolen Poseidon's trident and was using it to roast marshmallows, raised his hand. "That would be me! The original draft just said 'no boring wishes.' The lawyers added all the fine print later."
Hades leaned forward, suddenly interested. "Can we at least make them interesting zombies? Like, lava zombies? Zombie cerberus? Maybe some that shoot bees from their mouths?"
Odin's single eye twitched. "We are NOT making the apocalypse more—"
"Too late!" Loki chirped, waving a scroll. "I already drafted designs for zombie unicorns. They vomit rainbows that melt flesh. It's horrific and beautiful."
Buddha, who had been silently meditating through the chaos, finally spoke: "If there is to be suffering, there must be balance. A system of... checks and balances."
The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him.
Lucifer snapped his fingers. "Oh! Like a video game! The mortals love those!" He turned to the Goddess. "Give the survivors stats. Levels. Maybe some loot drops—"
Michael looked ready to smite everyone in the room. "YOU CANNOT TURN THE APOCALYPSE INTO A ROLE-PLAYING GAME!"
"Why not?" asked Anubis, checking his underworld smartphone. "Mortality rates might improve if they have something to grind for."
After three hours of debate (and one incident where Zeus turned Loki into a toaster), the pantheons reached a compromise:
1. **Zombie Evolution Tiers:**
- Year 1: Classic shamblers (walking dead rejects)
- Year 5: Olympic sprinters (because screw your cardio)
- Year 10: Climbers (enjoy your treehouse? Too bad)
- Year 30: Tanks (basically The Hulk but decomposing)
- Year 100: Psychic variants (they know where you hid the canned goods)
2. **The System:** Survivors would receive RPG mechanics including:
- Stat points
- Skill trees
- Occasionally nonsensical loot (why does this zombie have a mint condition PlayStation 5 in its stomach?)
3. **Divine Champions:** Each pantheon could sponsor one mortal champion:
- Lucifer immediately claimed "the most emo teenager in existence"
- Athena demanded "someone with common sense for once"
- Loki just wanted "whoever will cause the most chaos"
---
### **Back on Earth: The Morning After**
I woke up to the sound of my neighbor's rooster screaming like it was personally offended by the concept of dawn. My head pounded like a construction crew was installing new memories behind my eyeballs. For one glorious moment, I thought the zombie wish had been a dream.
Then I saw the status panel floating above my bed:
---
**NAME:** Ron "Oops-All-Apocalypses" Heard
**CURRENT STATUS:**
- Physical: Hungover (89%)
- Mental: Regretting Life Choices (100%)
- Spiritual: N/A (Atheist pending verification)
**APOCALYPSE COUNTDOWN:** 89 days, 23:58:01
**GODLY DISAPPROVAL RATING:**
- Zeus: 8/10 ("Disappointed but intrigued")
- Buddha: 3/10 ("Disappointed but not surprised")
- Lucifer: 11/10 ("New favorite human")
---
Janno materialized, looking exhausted. "Congratulations. You've officially given every deity in existence an existential crisis."
I grinned. "So... zombies are a go?"
"Oh yeah. With upgrades." He tossed me a glowing scroll. "Divine Addendum: Zombies now evolve. Survivors get superpowers. And Lucifer wants you to know he's rooting for you."
I unrolled the scroll to reveal one final line:
**"For unprecedented chaos, the Council grants you another ONE WISH. Use it wisely."**
I looked at Janno. "So... bunker time?"
Janno groaned. "Make it a good one. I'm thinking underground lair, hydroponic garden, maybe a bowling alley—"
"All of the above," I said. "Plus a margarita machine."
The lamp rumbled approvingly as I settled back on my couch. Three months until the end of the world. This was going to be fun.
———————
My workplace - a soul-crushing cubicle farm ironically named "Horizon Solutions" - had never seen anything like my resignation. I'd prepared for this moment like it was my Oscar acceptance speech.
I strolled in at 11 AM wearing sunglasses indoors (classic power move) and dropped my resignation letter on Henderson's desk. It was printed on neon pink paper with Comic Sans font, with "I QUIT" in 72pt bold and a footnote that read *"P.S. The coffee here violates the Geneva Convention."*
Henderson looked up slowly, his face doing that thing where all his wrinkles conspired to form one mega-wrinkle of disapproval. "This is... unprofessional."
"So is paying me in 'exposure' for three years," I shot back. "Also, the microwave in the break room is definitely sentient and it hates you specifically."
Two hours later, after what HR insisted on calling an "exit interview" but what I called "hostile questioning about my life choices," I was officially unemployed. As I made my triumphant march past the cubicles, Karen from Accounting - a woman who could audit someone to death with just a raised eyebrow - grabbed my arm.
"You look... different," she whispered. "Did you finally get laid?"
I adjusted my imaginary tie. "Better. I've become an agent of cosmic chaos. Also, the world's ending in three months. You might want to invest in canned goods and shotgun shells."
Karen blinked once, slowly. "Noted." Then she went back to her spreadsheets like I'd just told her the vending machine was out of Snickers.
**TO BE CONTINUED...**