Ah, life. Fresh air, warm sunlight, and plenty of water, garden life is great.
Bunker-up soldier, welcome to hell.
What are you talking about?
You've just been planted into a battlefield.
A battlefield? But the sunflowers look like they're having such a great time.
Their smiles are just for show. They have it rough.
BLARGH!! Oh God make it stop!
Did he just vomit sunshine?
Please, someone cut off my stalk. Tear me up. Do anything, just don't… oh no it's coming again! BLARGH!!
Can't someone help him?
Would love to, but we need his sunshine.
For photosynthesis?
You'd think so, but we actually use as currency to purchase biological weapons against the zombie onslaught. Oh great, here comes another rookie.
Yeah! Frontline! Someone hand me my nut-shooter.
So we shoot seeds at the zombies?
Yeah, well… not Wall-nut. He is more of a sacrificial plant.
Sacrificial? Wait, come on guys. Hand me my weapon, this zombie is wicked close.
Sorry buddy, take it like a champ!
OH MY GOD! MY SHELL! I FEEL EVERYTHING!
You're doing great! Keep it up!
I DON'T HAVE ARMS TO PROTECT MYSELF!
BLARGH!! Kill me now!
This place is awful.
What did I tell you? And that's not even the worst of it.
How could it get worse than this?
Our weapon supplier has a mental disorder.
I'M CRAAAAAAAZY!
How can you tell?
First of all, he's using garden plants as weapons against the zombie apocalypse. But the pot-helmet is a dead giveaway. Plus, he's always reaffirming that's he's crazy.
Why does he do that?
BECAUSE I'M CRAAAAAAAZY!
Told ya.
So… we're all going to die.
Pretty much.
Hold up little saplings, eventually the zombies will give up and we will all have a massive dance party!
…
Yeah, we're f—ked.