OK, y'all, I'm just going to warn you now that this is the blog version of getting drunk-dialed except there's no telephone involved and I'm not drunk, just mentally deranged. So by now the whole zombie apocalypse thing is old news and everyone's getting bored hearing about how the end is nigh because dudes are smoking bath salts and eating faces and throwing their own intestines at people and eating their children - which I don't think really counts as zombie activity anyway because that mom totally only did what most of the animal kingdom has been doing all along which is eating the weak young to nourish the mother so that she can nurture the stronger young. And I think I may have missed something in that sentence but I'm not fixing it so just live with it you grammar Nazis!
Anyway, this blog is not about any of those events. This blog post is about how those events are effecting my own household. And I know what you're thinking. Because I'm not just a zombie, I'm the psychic Queen of the Zombies! Ha! Um, yeah, anyway, you're thinking, "None of that stuff except the cannibal mom is even anywhere near you so why are these events effecting you?" But it doesn't matter because the zombie germs are already airborne and my family has been infected.
That's right, I'm infected. I'm not completely zombified (which my spell-checker says is not even a word - clearly it has also been zombified and is like a PR zombie propagandist or something - and why is propagandist a word but not zombified?) but I think I may be too far along to cure.
I woke up this morning because my husband was violently jumping on the bed - or sat down on it - and I tried to open my eyes but my eyes were all like, "Do not want!" and I was all like, "Eyes, you guys have to open" but they refused so finally I lifted my arms to my face and forced one eye open and was like, "Victory!" and my eye was like, "That's what YOU think!" and closed again really fast. So I thought I was just really tired but it turns out that was my first symptom of zombiefication (which spell-checker also claims is not a word - clearly my spell-checker is a zombie denier). Eventually I managed to get both eyes to stay open but they were incredibly angry about this and kept burning and watering in protest so I got out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom which probably sounds like another zombie symptom but it isn't because I shuffle to the bathroom every morning but most days I'm not a zombie. Once I was done forcing out the last vestiges of my previous life I shuffled on to the pet bowls and then the coffee maker.
Which is when Ben asked if I wasn't going to go to the bathroom first because he was busy being naked while I was forcing out the last vestiges of my life and totally missed it or something. So I mumbled something at him and he was all like, "What?" and I mumbled it again and he pretended he got it that time but it was obviously the way you pretend you understand something because you're too embarrassed to ask someone to repeat something one more time and thereby admit how incredibly old you are so you just smile and nod. This was zombie symptom number 2 and fear of admitting how old he is is the only thing that kept Ben from pointing and yelling "Zombie!" and severing my brain stem at that exact moment. Otherwise he would have realized because I'm usually very talkative in the mornings and he's the one that mumbles entire paragraphs without moving his lips even once.
So I sat down at my computer after that and might have been unconscious for a couple of hours or I might have posted a bunch of nonsense to Facebook but I'm not really sure because the zombification is doing bad things to my brain and it's really all kind of a blur. But the next thing I clearly remember is when Mindie came in to say good morning and then ran to the other end of the room and informed me that I smelled like "decomposing bodies."
Me: You mean like a zombie?
Mindie: Uh, yeah.
Me: Cool. Apparently I'm a victim of the zombie apocalypse.
Mindie: Um, no, I don't think so. You smell like a zombie but you're not all hunched over and shambling. And you haven't been snacking on the flesh of the living.
Me: That you KNOW of...
Me: Have you asked yourself lately, "Where's my sister?"
Mindie: ... (backs away slowly)
Mindie: Go take a shower!
And then I sat there, zoned out and zombie-like for a while longer. And then my phone rang and it was Ben needing me to pick him up "a lot of the really big boxes of baking soda" to clean out his agricultural chemical tanks. Because he's a farmer but he's KEEPING IT GREEN y'all. Because it totally counts as green agriculture if you wash out the evil Monsanto germs with baking soda after you're done hosing down the crops with them. So I took a shower and kept trying to go to the store and get him his Greenie McGreenerson stuff but I kept getting more and more zombified. And at one point Mindie came in and was like, "I guess you were right, Mom. It is the zombie apocalypse. Shannen just moaned something at me that sounded like 'Brains.'" And I was all like, "See?? See, I told you I had been snacking on your sister. And now she's a zombie like me. You're the only survivor of the zombie apocalypse." Only my speech centers were degrading by then and I might have said "apopalypse" which my spell-checker says isn't even a word and it is right.
At some point I made it out the door and there weren't hordes of zombies everywhere but that was ok. And then I went to Wal-Mart and I kind of shambled mindlessly down the aisles and then I paid and went to the store because Wal-Mart didn't have the big boxes of baking soda. And at the grocery store I did some more random shambling but the only brains they had were in the frozen pig heads (no, I'm not making that up) so I just got the baking soda and some chicken which totally tastes like brains but is leaner and cheaper. And the checker was all perky and friendly and trying to converse and I just kind of stood there mumbling words that might have been "Braaaaaaains." And the bag boy followed me out to my car but I forgot where it was and there's only ever like 20 cars in the whole parking lot but we wandered around for a while before I spotted my big, honking white SUV - although in my defense every other car in west Texas is also a big, honking white SUV so my car was kind of camouflaged.
I got home and put away the brains and might have wasted some more time on Facebook before the zombification took its toll on my body and I was forced to take a nap. When I got up, I noticed that my motor functions were more impaired than before as I stumbled around like a drunken Buster Keaton. But by that point, Mindie had also succumbed to the process and was similarly motor impaired.
When Ben got home we all fell on him like the zombies we are, at his brains out, and shuffled off into the night. Or maybe that part didn't happen but I'm running out of things to say and can't figure out a good way to end this blog. So, we ate my husband and shuffled into the night. Beware, for the psychic Queen of the Zombies may be coming for you soon.