The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘zombie’

My Zombie Roomy (10/5/12)

This is going to seem very wrong. Well, it is very wrong. I’m sort of playing God here, and while part of me likes the sensation (SUCH POWER!!!), part of me knows that I am creeping myself out.

At first I was disgusted and ashamed. But by the end of it, well, I had put on a silly hat, a bathrobe over my work clothes, and a fake name tag that said, “call me … Ishmael.”

What was I working on that led to this? This list. This … food list.

I have never been a fan of the Zombie’s eating habits, because I don’t particularly like it when people come to an untimely end. Especially an untimely end via unbrushed teeth. Can you imagine? Super gross.

BUT … Stay with me here … Some people are worse than others. Again, who am I to judge? But, then again, who else will advise the Zombie? Is someone who teaches children, greets everyone with a smile, and is a doting father better than a creepy certain someone who has two dogs who howl all night and when asked if they could maybe do something about it responds, ‘I guess I could, but I won’t’? Who is to say?

I mean, who’s to say … hypothetically. Because, obviously, I have said.

Ok. I’m back to being disgusted with myself. I’ll write more about this later when I’m feeling less like the devil. On the positive side: cliffhanger! Who doesn’t love/hate a good cliffhanger?

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My Zombie Roomy

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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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