Front
Back (apologies for my handwriting!)
The text of the postcard is
Dear Ellen,
Those are the Twelve Apostles. It’s a very beautiful sight in Australia.
This picture captures them nicely, and shows people enjoying their beauty.
But what’s sad is one guy standing there is thinking, “hey Twelve Apostles … rock on.” Then a little smirk. Then his girlfriend notices the smirk and says, “hey! rock it off …”
Too punny, right?
Sincerely,
DumbFunnery.com
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.
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:
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.
DumbFunnery 