The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Little update on the Great Zombino for you.

If you recall, about two months ago Whitney Houston died. With the predictability of a stick falling, the news and radio channels then blasted Whitney songs for quite a while. Generally I would look for other news, but one day I didn’t.

That’s when I noticed something unexpected, and in a cruel way, hilarious.

The Zombie is AFRAID of Whitney! It’s crazy! He just stopped dead in his tracks, got this big old puppy dog look on his face and kind of shrunk into himself.

At first I was afraid because whatever scares a zombie is bound to be awfully scary, right? Not this time my friends! I turned off the TV because I wanted to listen for whatever he was hearing … and he just went back to his regular self.

I gave him my best “ummm … what?” look for a few long moments. Then I went to the door and snuck a look outside. Nothing. So I flipped back on the TV and his meltdown happened again.

After what some might call cruel but I would call scientific tests, I learned the cold hard truth. The Zombie is afraid of Whitney Houston.

I know it’s cruel, but this is good to know. As much as he and I are “friends” (it’s weird considering him a friend considering, well, you know), I still like knowing that I can stop him from deciding to eat me.

Comments on: "My Zombie Roomy (5/7/12)" (1)

  1. That is truly bizarre. I would have thought her smooth tones would have soothed his brain addled mind.

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