The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Archive for the ‘My Zombie Roomy’ Category

My Zombie Roomy (9/21/12)

The Zombie is a real jerk, but he’s clever. I had him all wrong. It turns out the Zombie wasn’t pointing at Flannery O’Conner’s The Complete Stories but one of my Jack Handy’s Deep Thoughts books. He was going to bag himself some easy prey.

Watching the Olympics made the Zombie come to a realization. While I was impressed with their athleticism and strength, he was too. Maybe more so. The Zombie realized, when people put their minds to it, they’re pretty tough to chase down and eat.

You know who is not tough to eat? People who aren’t athletes.

The Zombie smells just like Whataburger. With a hint of trash. And the usual death, and decay.

It’s gross. He apparently spent the whole time I was gone (plus some) hanging out at the Whataburger. Based on some intricate charades I figured out that his favorite time of day was when this bar that is right near the Whataburger lets out. Chow time, folks.

He knows I don’t really like when he eats people. But I have to admit, I was the least mad I could possibly be when I found out the bar is this one that is a hot spot for racist rednecks. The Zombie is no Dexter, but he’s got a certain style to his mealtime choices.

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My Zombie Roomy (9/20/12)

I was watching highlights of the Olympics one day in Australia when I saw a race. At the end of the race this runner was making a crazed face, and my heart nearly skipped a beat.

I know that face.

That’s the face I made the time I got home and the Zombie was having a party (that’s another story for another day, I’m still annoyed at him – I almost got ripped to shreds and their music sucked AND my apartment smelled awful. Oh and they poured out all my milk. Ugh. I’m getting angry again about it. He didn’t know it was so wrong … Sorry, I’m now talking to myself and typing it all out). Anywho. It was not a fun experience, and I was shocked. I made … well, this guy’s face:

mo farrah

I had to wonder, did the Zombie find his way to London? He didn’t ask me where the Olympics were being held. Not that it would have mattered, he’s mostly brain dead. I thought about it and realized it was really unlikely.

When I got back home I learned that he hadn’t been to the Olympics – but he had gone somewhere weird.

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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.

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