“I’m just here to do the job I came to do. Pass the whisky.”
Paul the Huntsman was content wasting his life away in drink and, occasionally, hunting. He’d crawled into a bottle in a cabin in the woods and was there to stay. Then the zombies came. They came slowly, a few at a time through the thick underbrush. And he chopped through them like old logs. It wasn’t until one of them nearly killed him that the Huntsman clambered out of the bottle. Since he’d love to climb back in, he plans to kill them all and go back to drinking.