FRANKLIN JEFFERSON GRITT 

BORN: Nov 22nd 1961
HEIGHT: 6’ 2”
WEIGHT: 183 lbs 
HOMETOWN: Hardwick, VT 
HIRED: 10/13/1988 
WEAPON OF CHOICE: Mauser Kar 98k, Carbide-edge saw-blades, Shotgun loaded with Rosary Beads 
SKILLS: Expert marksman, handy-man skills, house-painting, Krang impressions,
HOBBIES: Maple-sugaring, snow-shoeing, tending the crops 

      He’s known for his no-nonsense attitude, even when surrounded by rancid, zombie hordes or trapped in the Zero Zone. The man is Frank Gritt and he’s true to his name. When Gritt was the born, the occasion was marked by the sudden death of his family’s livestock. His subsequent childhood could hardly be called happy. At age six, he fell into the old well. Most folks just assumed he had been eaten by the coyotes, and so a rescue party was never dispatched. Young Frank was a strong lad, and survived in the damp, darkness; subsiding off edible mushrooms and grubs. Seven years later he had managed to tunnel his way out, and emerged in his backyard to find the family farm deserted, having perished from the “Milk Sick.”

      Thanks to his time underground, Gritt had developed into a young man of few words with a macho facial scar. Largely self-educated (with the bulk of his knowledge pertaining to the behavior of subterranean fungi and insect larvae), Gritt traveled New England doing odd-jobs, hoping to save up enough to repair the old family farm. In the seventies, he joined the notoriously cut-throat maple-sugar business and set several industry records for syrup production. His meteoric rise to maple-sugar superstardom was noticed by the manufacturers of so-called Table Syrup and in 1985, several gangs of criminals were dispatched to put him out of operation.

       None survived.

      In 1988, Gritt stopped at the Blue Springs General Store to buy a newspaper and a package of gum. Alerted by the cashier to the presence a shambling, decaying man outside the window, Gritt was quick to react and hurled a jar of pickled eggs at the thing, killing it instantly. At first Gritt incorrectly assumed that this was some sort of invasion by the Soviet Union and was reportedly disappointed to discover that it was actually a zombie outbreak. Nevertheless, Gritt fought like a wildman and lent his calloused, meaty hand to a young Jim Rage. Rage was so impressed by Frank Gritt’s zombie killing prowess that he invited him to be the Enkidu to his Gilgamesh and join his new undead extermination agency. To this day, they are still close friends. They often make in-jokes that the rest of us can’t understand and it always makes us feel sort’ve left out especially when they laugh and then we have to laugh too, or else look stupid, which is always awkward but, you know, like, whatever, its not a big thing, but kind’ve annoying, I guess.

      Anyways.

      Through the good times and the bad times (mostly bad times) Frank Gritt has been out there shooting the undead in the head, watching the company he helped found grow and diversify and then abruptly crash. Due to ongoing difficulties with his bad hip, Gritt only works part time now, but is on call to help out around the office when we need somebody to lift something heavy.