Reverend James Turnbull lives in a house in Minneapolis, MN that has not yet been turned into an underground bunker in preparation for the zombie apocalypse (in spite of his fervent attempts!). His fiancee and two children tacitly support his writing addiction by supplying him with a computer and internet access, though in return he has to sell pillows at the Mall of America to pay for groceries. His cat, of course, disdains his weakness and will have no part of his writing, even going so far as to distract him by sitting in his lap and meowing cutely when he tries.