Humor Post #55 from the world’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Middle School Blog (and probably the awesomest YA blog too) –
Zombies. I gotta write about zombies. A couple days ago I mentioned them in my post about things that were sicker than a dog and I wrote, “a zombie with the flu.” Now that I’ve obssessed about it more and even lost some sleep over it, I’ve decided that zombies might have it worse than just about anybody. Yeah, they’re undead, which might be pretty cool depending on what death is like, but they’re definitely unloved. They’re almost sure to be the last ones chosen in a pick-up game. They’re underappreciated, underutilized, and underweared (I hope). (Yeah, yeah, another bad one, I know.)
But it’s easy to see why they are kind of repulsive.
1. They’re ugly with pale, gray skin, open sores and wounds and flesh falling off them. Not your first choice for a prom date, even if you’re really desperate.
2. They obviously stink since they’re rotting bodies. Who wants to be around someone who smells so bad? I worry just when I’ve had a fart or two. It must be just awful for them.
3. They don’t make for good conversationalists. Mostly they growl or moan. I don’t imagine they’d be much fun at a party. No jokes, no mimicking anyone, no “pull this finger” or “you’ve got a spot on your shirt” routines.
4. They all limp or shuffle along and they’re not much for rules so they’re lousy at sports. They’d be sure to lose at musical chairs. The Electric Slide? Forget it! Wait a minute. They might be good at King of the Mountain since the goal there is to keep control of the mountain. I think they’d be pretty good at that. (That’s the only plus I’ve come up with so far.)
5. They’re not too good at showing their emotions. Maybe a psychologist could help them loosen up a bit, but I doubt it.
6. They kinda have an OCD thing going on, at least the O part. They always seem to have exactly one thing on their “minds.”
7. Their hair and make-up are a joke. Not even goths would think they were cool in that regard.
8. All they want to do is eat everyone’s brains. Everyone who’s not yet dead, that is. Now once you’re bitten or eaten, you become a zombie too, which I guess means they’re not too exclusive. They welcome new members, which is another plus for them. But who wants to be a member of THAT club? No, when zombies come knockin’, the party stops rockin’. Everybody be walkin’, well, runnin’ really to get their bad booties outta there.
So let’s say you’re a zombie and you’re feeling sick. It’s bad, real bad. First, since you don’t really think much, it’s hard for you to know if you’re really sick or just feeling like a normal zombie. After all, you ARE a stinkin’, rotting corpse, aren’t you? But let’s say you get it together enough to see a doctor (or at least a nurse practitioner). You won’t be able to describe your symptoms and they probably won’t be able to take your blood pressure or temperature because you’ll eat their brains if they do. Now you’re right back to where you started. Sure, you can try another medical person, but the results will always be the same.
At least zombies have friends, some of you will probably say. Yeah, right. With friends like those, who needs enemies. A mob is not exactly a campfire circle singing “B-I-N-G-O, and Bingo was his name-o.” No, it ain’t. More like, “Uh, uh, grunt,” arms flailing, stinky underarms, breath, and everything else, teeth ready to gnaw you apart. Sounds like the boys’ locker room at school, I know, but believe me, it’s way worse.
There is one other good thing about all this bad stuff. Zombies don’t care about it. It ‘s like everything is “no problema” with them. Just give ’em a nice very rare brain burger and they’re
happy — well, okay, content anyway. And all those cool movie and television roles they get? Most of us would be like, “Hey, look at me, dudes. I’m on da big box, ya know?” Not zombies. Fame, money, chocolate, girl/boy friends, everything we all want — it’s all a big zero to them.
So here’s a shout out to zombies — little understood, but always feared and hated. They got almost nothing to live for (except the occasional snack) and absolutely nothing to die for, them being already dead and all.
Be glad you’re not one. Be very glad.
From your Dude with the ‘Tude,