I never thought zombies were real. People were getting sick and “undying” all over the world, and then they’d come home and zombify their loved ones, too. I guess that’s one way to live forever with the people you love. Seriously though….ewww.
So, I stand corrected from my last post. Zombies are real and they’re everywhere. Yesterday, I went out to some yard sales in Oak Bluffs and scored a beautiful new side table. It was eighteenth century with these beautiful twisted legs and a perfectly finished top, not a scratch! Then while I was carrying the table to my car, a zombie tumbled out of the bushes. He had one eye popped out and green saliva was dripping down his chin. Like I said earlier….ewww. I hit the zombie with the only thing I had, my table. He fell, grabbing my ankle as the hit the ground. I tabled the guy again. It was Mr. Parker who pumped gas at the Ocean Mart. He let go and I ran.
I threw the table in the back of my car (as it still didn’t have a scratch on it), and I peeled out of there leaving a legion of startled bargain hunters behind as Mr. Parker sought to introduce himself. I saw a few more zombies on my way home. They don’t move fast, but a little bit of green goo will zombify anyone.
Once home, I boarded up all of my windows and hunkered down. I turned on my DVR and watched some TV shows to drown out the sounds of the people screaming outside. I looked in the fridge and realized how woefully unprepared I was for a zombie apocalypse. The only thing in there worth eating was some coleslaw and beans that were left over from dinner at the Bar-B-Que Beach Shack. My stomach rumbled and I ate it all. I’d have to go out and get some supplies in the morning.
Last night, I got sick. Shaky, sweaty, painful stomach. Then I vomited until there was nothing left inside me. I was going to die. I knew it. I went to bed hoping I’d fall asleep and be unaware of the change. I didn’t want to be a zombie and I was too sick to do anything but pass out.
The sun rose the next morning, sending shafts of light through the boards nailed to my windows. I woke up feeling like someone had wrung out my stomach and hit me over the head with a giant sized stick. Funny thing was that I thought waking up as a zombie would pretty much erase all of the traces of “me.” Yet, I never felt more like myself–minus the upset tummy. My arms and legs looked normal without any of those weird black and blue marks that dead people get when they lie down because fluids pools just beneath the surface of the skin. (See, CSI is informative!)
One thing was for sure: I had zombie breath. It could kill a goat! Ugh. So, off to the bathroom I went. Since I still had “me” sense in my head, there was no reason not to at least brush my teeth and hair. After all, if I had to be a zombie, I’d be the best zombie I could be, but I wasn’t looking forward to mealtime. In fact, the thought of food made me nauseous.
When I got to the bathroom mirror, my world lurched. The girl staring back at me had a bird’s nest hairdo that looked pretty horrific, blood shot eyes, and pale skin…without any trace of zombiness. I was whole. I was healthy. I was me! And I clearly had suffered from one monster case of food poisoning last night.
And here I thought I was going to be a zombie. Glad I’m not. Still, how ironic. Now, let’s see if I can get through Day 2 of the Zombie Apocalypse 2012!
~ ~ ~ ~