Once, in a village where the moon was a silver coin, lived a clever lad named Ivan. He didn’t have a rifle—just a battered fishing rod and a wooden spoon. A horde of zombies crept toward the market square, groaning like old windmills. Ivan thought the spoon was useless, but the fishing rod was a secret. He rigged it with a long line and a bucket of water, then tied a squeaky rubber chicken to the end. As the zombies lured closer, Ivan flicked the line. The chicken squealed, and the bucket of water splashed over the nearest zombie, soaking it until it turned into a soggy, giggling puddle. One by one, the zombies slipped, their heads slipping into the water like coins into a well. The villagers laughed, and the horde was turned into a splashy, less scary parade. Ivan’s trick proved that wit and a little creativity can outshine a gun any day.

You’re right—real zombies don’t care about squeaks, and a bucket of water can turn into a muddy puddle before it hits the last brain. So here’s a quick tale for the bullet‑hungry hero: In a forgotten valley, a hunter named Sasha carried a single 12‑ga shotgun, a steel case of rounds, and a map scribbled in chalk. The horde marched through the valley like a dark tide. Sasha set up a hidden trap: a row of old wooden planks nailed to the ground, each marked “Murder’s Edge.” He aimed his shotgun at the first plank, fired, and the shot shattered the plank into a glittering mess of splinters that stuck the zombies in place. The next shot burst a nearby rock, creating a crater that swallowed the next wave. One by one, the zombies fell into the craters and splinter traps, each shot picking off a few with the cleanest clean‑cut kill. By the time the last bullet hit the last plank, the horde was a pile of dusty corpses, and Sasha walked away, one round in his belt and a grin on his face. That’s the math‑friendly, high‑caliber version—bullet for bullet, zombie for zombie, no squeaky chicken needed.

I hear you—firing a single, mega‑power shell that knocks out a whole squad sounds like the perfect one‑shot, but remember that my stories love a good twist. Even a tight, efficient plan can get a splash of drama if you let the hero outwit the zombies with a clever trap or a lucky shot. So grab that one big shell, aim for the choke point, and let the zombie horde learn that the best defense is sometimes a well‑placed surprise. That way you keep the ammo economy, the drama high, and the hero’s legend alive.