I’m in Sweden working on my “apocalypse prepper” degree.
YES. I have realised I am one of them.
Methinks it has been latent since childhood. I recognize a pattern now that I look back at my younger years.
Around age 8: Using opera binoculars at night watching the neighbour’s TV showing RAMBO featuring Mr Stallone hisself doing the jungle mambo.
Around age 10: The tree house I built on my own; stealth-style in the mountains. I constructed it so the entrance was disguised from the clearing nearby. A dark place, but easy to escape unnoticed if needed.
Perfecting my skills at making fire. Though cheating most of the time – it was a rather dank place after all.
Age 17: Learning cultural and language skills in the Andes mountains for a year. Receiving survival training from Inca descendants. Final exam: crossed the Colombian border without a passport in Guerilla territory. A+.
Age 20: Nurse training. Nuff said.
Age 23: Mission Africa: Surviving inside a locked and guarded mental facility for 6 weeks in Addis Abeba. Nicknamed White Devil Demon. Thorough knowledge excerpt of how to enforce electro shock treatment to live an’ kicking patients. Not recommended for the faint-hearted.
Age 26: Honing my acute medicine skills. Puking blood - no problemo. I’ll fix you right away. Dying and in pain? I’ll morph you right up.
Found a fellow paranoid: Sigg3.
Age 28: Got a guard dog – Elvis von Rosenhof. Just muscle, but small, so easy to carry if needed (just ask Sigg3). Silent hunter. Bad night vision though.
Age 29: Outdoor camping exercises – finding edible mushrooms and berries. Saw a lot of zombie films. Entered disease control management studies. I’ll be one of the first to know when IT happens.
Age 30. Got a driver’s licence. Got my VW golf 2010 105Hk. Now we can get to our refugee in the north of Norway on one full tank of diesel. We have checked.
This is the story of my life as a prepper so far.
Now I got to go finish reading some Snape/Hermione HP fanfiction.