The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

My Zombie Roomy (9/18/12)

I left for Australia on August 1st, and I got back on August 14th. The opening ceremonies were on July 27th, so I got a few days of Olympics watching before I departed. Something happened during that time period which I didn’t really want to mention.

The Zombie and I were both very absorbed by the Olympics. Such impressive athletes! So much work, and effort, and raw emotion on display! How can you not be dazzled? But … why’s the Zombie so interested?

The Zombie got up, and he pointed at a book on my book shelf. It was no accident. He pointed to Flannery O’Conner’s The Complete Stories. Then he looked at me, gave me a little nod, hesitated, started to do a creepy shuffle toward me, shook it off, gave me another nice nod, then walked out the door.

That’s one brave zombie.

(Oh, and I had told the Zombie before that if he ever wanted to destroy a book of mine by nibbling on it or getting blood on it or whatever, that he could go for Flanney O’Conner’s book. Why? Because it’s a challenge that I’ve had sitting on my book shelf for a long time now. We had to read several of her short stories in high school, and I kind of enjoyed them, but the teacher sucked the fun out of every one. I told myself I would read all she had written in an attempt to make them enjoyable. It’s a challenge for myself. And I have ironically also sucked the fun out of it.)

The Zombie’s challenge? To bag himself an Olympian. For dinner.

Comments on: "My Zombie Roomy (9/18/12)" (3)

  1. Of course, I read the posts out of order. So I already know he was looking at the Jack Handy’s, Deep Thoughts book instead. Maybe he has more brain power than you think he does. Maybe he just seems slow because he’s busy pondering life. Well, life and brains, or course.

  2. I do slightly worry that you’re becoming just a tad jaded towards the notion of your roomy eating others. Where one could see you rubbing off on the zombie, I’m starting to see the reverse is also true. Next thing you know, you’ll be marching in zombie rights parades. But they don’t have the right to eat me. That’s wrong, right? Of course right.

    Hmm… I seem to have gone slightly Yente at the end there.

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