“What happened to the spaghetti we were supposed to have tonight?” demanded the woman.
I didn’t hear the response.
“You clumsy ass! Then you’ll walk to the store right now to get more sauce to replace the jar you broke.” I heard banging and something large hit the wall.
“I don’t care if it’s closed, you can just go to another!” Something hit the door, then I heard the door open. I grabbed my keys and rushed out my door just in time to see the white head of hair descend down the stairs.
Samson was limping down the street, and I quickly caught up to him. “Wait, I’ll give you a ride.”
I was prepared for the sight of him. There was a cut on his head, staining his hair pink and dripping down his face. His hand clutched at his neck, which was also covered with blood, streaming over his fingers and down his shirt.
“Oh my god, we’ve got to get you to a doctor,” I said.
“It’s no use,” he replied. “There’s nothing they can do. I just hope that next time they make it all the way through and put me out of my misery.”
“No,” I said. “Come with me. We’ll go somewhere. I’ll take you away from them. Don’t go back there.”
“I don’t even know you,” he said.
“So. What are you afraid of? No one could offer you a worse life than they have.” He opened his mouth, but he had no answer. “Stay in the car,” I said. “Let me get a few things from my apartment, and I’ll be right back.”
I ran upstairs to get my clothes and laptop. Luckily, I was still packed, so they were easy to grab. I lugged the suitcases down the stairs.
“Get the fuck out,” a large, overweight man demanded through the passenger’s side window of my car.
I dropped my bags. “Leave him the fuck alone.”
As I intended, the man left the car to come up to me. “Who the hell are you?”
“None of your damned business. Go back to your apartment before I drag you up there.”
“Oh yeah, make me.”
So I did. He was heavy, but I managed to drag him struggling up the stairs, opened his door, threw him inside. I easily broke off one of the remaining rungs in the stairs and shoved it up under the door handle. It wouldn’t take him long to dislodge it, but it would be enough time to get back out to my car.
I threw my bags in the back, got inside, and pulled away just in time. The man, followed by a large woman, ran down the street yelling, “I’ll get your pansy ass!”
Samson looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, “Thank you.”
We never went back.
(back to TOC)
****
Strangers
Hollywood
Rex Goldberg, one of the highest grossing actors in Hollywood, recently signed on to do a horror movie.
It was a typical zombie movie, set in a city, with people coming together to defend against the zombies from a central point. He was the dashing male lead who would eventually win the heart of the tough but lovely female lead. It was a pretty easy role.
Usually he preferred to converse with the other star actors during breaks in shooting and let the lesser actors, extras, and crew socialize among themselves. This time, during the first day, he had a scene with one of the extras playing a zombie that involved wrestling. It took a lot of cooperation between the two of them, and he got to know the other actor a bit.
After a morning of shooting, he went to get some lunch, and invited the other actor along. Still in full makeup, they went to a cafe around the corner from the set. The waitresses were used to all sorts of “characters” coming in.
They sat down to lunch, and Rex said, “I’m sorry man, I didn’t catch your name.”
“No problem,” he said. “I’m Adam.”
Rex held out his hand. “Nice to meet you Adam.” When they shook hands, he thought Adam’s hand was rather cold and clammy. He had expected the feel of makeup. It didn’t smudge though, so it must be some new, good stuff. Or a coating to help keep it on. At any rate, it worked well.
“So what’s your wife think about your work?” asked Rex in an effort to start conversation.
“I’m not married anymore,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” said Rex. “I’m divorced myself, twice already. Women, you can’t live with ‘em, huh?”
“Heh, yeah,” said Adam. “Can live without them though.” Rex thought he sounded a little sad, but he assumed he just had a dry sense of humor.
“No doubt,” said Rex. “My last wife cleaned me out good. Took the kids too, of course. You have any kids?”
Now he was sure Adam was down. “I do, two girls. They’re six and eight.” He pulled out his wallet and showed him a picture of two darling little girls hugging like best friends. “I’m not allowed to see them any more though.”
“I’m sorry, man.” Rex said, “I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.” Then talk turned to sports. They compared their favorite sports and teams and were surprised to find they liked the same team. “I played a little soccer in high school myself,” said Rex.
“Me too, and even some in college. Wish I could still play, but I can’t take the chance. Don’t want to lose a leg or something.”
Rex laughed. “We should go catch a game sometime.”
“Man, I wish I could.” Adam looked at his watch. “We probably should be getting back.”
Over the next few weeks, Rex was really becoming good friends with Adam. And the studio must have liked Adam’s work, because they kept him on. In fact, Rex noticed that they kept all the same extras as zombies and just changed their costumes. He figured the studio was probably just trying to save money.
Perhaps they spent it all on the makeup artists, because the makeup was fantastic. Even in the scene where he opens up a fire hydrant to blow the zombies away with water, not a bit of the special effects came off.
One morning, Rex stopped at a coffee shop on the way to the studio and ran into Adam.
“Oh man, I’m like a zombie before my coffee,” Rex said.
“Heh, yeah, me too.” Alex had the same sad disposition to him that he had when he joked. Rex was having a hard time getting used to it.
“Looks like you’ve been hard at work already,” said Rex. “You’re in makeup and everything. Did they already shoot some this morning?”
“No, not yet.”
“Ah, you’re a method actor. I have a lot of respect for that. Really put yourself into the role.” Adam interrupted him when his drink was called and said he’d see him on set.
By the end of the shoot, Rex realized how good of a friend he had in Adam. On the last day on set, he surprised Adam with two tickets to their favorite soccer team’s championship game.
“Oh wow, this is great, thanks,” said Adam with less enthusiasm than Rex expected.
He hadn’t expected his friend to take the last day on set so badly. Then he started thinking that Adam was going home to an empty house, and this was probably the last paycheck for him until he got another gig. It was okay for him to be depressed, Rex thought.
After filming was over, Rex did miss his friend, but they would talk over the phone often. He was looking forward to the game, but that morning, Adam called and said he wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t make it.
Rex called him the next day and wanted to make it up to him. “Let me take you to lunch,” he said.
“That might not be a good idea,” said Adam.
“Ah, got another gig? That’s awesome. How about dinner instead?”
Adam reluctantly agreed.
That evening, Adam must have come to the restaurant straight from work because he was in full makeup. Rex was kind of hoping he wouldn’t be, because he had reservations at a nice restaurant. The makeup must have been done by the same artists though, so Rex figured it probably took a lot of time to take off.
After dinner, they said their goodbyes, and Adam waved down a cab across the street. As he crossed the street, another cab pulled out une
xpectedly and hit Adam straight on. Not only did it knock him down, the inattentive cabbie drove over him entirely.
“Oh my god, call 911!” yelled Rex as he rushed to his friend’s aid.
To his astonishment, Adam stood up and brushed himself off while mumbling something about tire marks. “It’s a miracle,” cried Rex.
“Actually, no it isn’t,” admitted Adam. Rex gave him a confused look. “I have to admit something to you... I’m really a zombie.”
“That’s not possible,” said Rex, astonished. “You’re so nice.” Adam nodded. “You eat regular meals.” Adam nodded. “You’ve never tried to kill me.” Adam nodded. “You’re just like everyone else.”
“Exactly,” said Adam. “I just don’t have a heartbeat.”
Rex thought it over, then said, “Well, how about a drink then?”
(back to TOC)
****
Not A Snow Day
The ground was entirely clear that morning before I went into work. The forecast for the day was a slight chance of light flurries. So I put on my usual work attire of a button down shirt, a jacket, a knee length skirt, stockings and heels.
The skirt was my favorite one. It was a rusty color with a faint pattern of little black flowers spread across it. It was flouncy without being too playful. I always got compliments on it when I wore it. It looked great with a pair of black stockings and my matching red linen textured heels.
The day was just a normal day at work. I clocked in, started my computer, got a cup of coffee, and then answered emails until the nine-o-clock meeting. At the morning meeting, some of us were asked to come to an afternoon meeting. Great.
Lunch was uneventful, just a microwave diet dinner, warmed up, then eaten at my desk. I was actually able to get a bit done and satisfy my clients before the afternoon meeting at three.
The meeting took forever, and I felt like I didn’t even need to be at it. Oh well, such is office life. When we walked out of the windowless conference room said, “Oh wow, it snowed.”
It sure had. A lot. There was about six inches on the cars. In fact, not only had it snowed, but it was mixed with freezing rain. I looked down at my shoes. There was no way I was going to be able to get out to my car and clean it all off without ruining them. I thought about taking them off, but I didn’t think I would be able to stand in my stocking feet in the snow for that long.
As the clock ticked closer to five and I was wrapping up for the day, I wracked my brain trying to think of how I could clean off the car. Maybe I could get someone to take me to the drugstore down the block. At the very least it would have a scraper, since I remembered that mine was still in the garage. I was unsure of the possibility of the store having any sort of footwear though.
When closing time came, I walked outside ready to snag someone I knew to see if they would be willing to give me a ride to the store. I didn’t need to bother. Starting from the first row by the entrance, all the cars had been cleared off and the lot plowed and shoveled.
With everyone else, I looked around to see who could have done it. At the end of the last row of cars was a zombie in snow gear cleaning off the last couple cars. I went up to him and said, “Thank you.”
“Oh, you’re welcome,” he said, like it was no big deal. “Usually I just shovel while the plow driver clears the big areas, but he had to take the plow in for gas. I figured I’d just shovel while waiting for him to come back, but I finished everything up. So I thought I’d clear off the cars too.”
“I really appreciate it. I wasn’t looking forward to scraping my windshield while in this outfit,” I said sheepishly.
The zombie looked at me. “Yeah, that would’ve been cold. Well, have a nice day.”
I resolved to pay him back. The next time it snowed and the plow needed to come, I was ready. As soon as I heard the truck in the parking lot, I went into action.
I had brought along my homemade hot cocoa mix. Grabbing my mug, I went into the kitchen and cleaned it out first, of course. Then I filled it with milk and stuck it in the microwave until it was nice and hot. Then I stirred in the cocoa mix, and even topped it with big marshmallows.
The zombie was just finishing the last of shoveling when I brought the cup out to him. “Thank you for all your hard work. Here’s something to warm you up,” I said.
“Wow, thank YOU,” he said.
“I just wanted to let you know that we really appreciate the work you do.”
(back to TOC)
****
Hope Lies with the Children
On the Friday after Thanksgiving, I took my son with me shopping.
Normally I don’t take my son out with me, especially on one of the busiest days of the year, but I wanted him to learn a valuable lesson.
The night before, we heard all these horror stories on the news about Black Friday sales at large retailers. Most of them showcased a lack of compassion in a frenzy of good deals. I wanted him to see a better side of humanity.
So instead of going to the big box stores, my son and I started our Christmas shopping at local businesses instead. We were greeted warmly by all the clerks and shop owners.
The worst part of the day was when my son lost his teddy bear. Even though he’s six, I was still having a hard time separating him from that bear. But when we got into the kitchen store, he looked down to find BooBoo Bear missing. He was immediately inconsolable.
We went back to the store we had just come from and looked all around, but we couldn’t find it. We asked the cashier and anyone else who looked familiar, even the zombie browsing the snow globes, but no one had seen it.
I finally got him settled down enough to continue shopping. We went back to the kitchen store, got the few gifts I wanted to get there, and stood in line to check out. I had resolved that we would go home as soon as we got checked out.
Then the zombie from the other store came in the door, looked around, saw us, and approached my son. He kneeled down to be eye level with him and said, “It took a while to find him, but I was eventually successful.” He pulled his hand from behind his back.
“BooBoo Bear!” my son cried, grabbing his teddy bear. “Thank you mister!”
After that day, no six year old was a bigger zombie rights activist than my son. It took him a while to realize that zombies were often treated differently than us. When he did, any time he saw any signs of zombie discrimination, he would yell, “That’s no fair!”
The week before Christmas, he asked me, “Mommy, can we get a present for the man who found BooBoo Bear for me?”
“I’m sorry honey,” I said, “We don’t know that man’s name or where he lives.”
“Oh,” said my son, obviously disappointed.
I thought a moment and said, “But I have an idea. Why don’t we take presents to the Home for the Differently Animated for all the poor zombies there?”
“Okay!” he said, and immediately we went to work to figure out what they might like.
He couldn’t even wait until the next day to go shopping. So went we went out that night and stocked up on candy bars and festive socks and holiday sweaters and Santa Claus hats, and CDs and books and movies.
We went to the zombies the next day. My son went around passing out the gifts to all the patients. They were all delighted to see him and very thankful for the gifts.
He insisted that we give to the zombies every year afterwards. Now that he is grown, he does the same thing with his son.
(back to TOC)
****
The Diner
It was a cold, clear night in January, and I had just worked a double shift at the hospital. I had skipped lunch and was starving.
On the way home, I stopped at the diner on my way home and just got a hamburger to go.
Walking back out to my car, a man was passing by on the street. He saw me and stopped to ask if I could spare some change for a meal. His coat was so worn that the fabric was see through, where there was fabric at least. His pants weren’t fairing
as well, and the right leg was barely hanging on at all.
I could see his ruptured skin through the knee hole. The one finger that stuck out of a hole in his gloves was little more than bone. One of the fingers that was still left in the glove didn’t appear to be filled by anything.
Then I looked into his eyes, set deep into a sunken face, and I realized that he was a zombie.
“You know what, I’ll do you one better. Come on in and I’ll buy you dinner,” I said while walking back towards the building.
“Oh no, that’s okay,” he said.
“Come on,” I insisted.
“But I can’t go in there looking like this.”
“Sure you can, come on.”
When we walked inside the door, the staff told him he had to leave. “It’s okay,” I said, “he’s here with me.”
Reluctantly they seated us. Understandably, the zombie looked nervous sitting at a table around all these people. The waitress brought a menu, and he ordered a hamburger. After my insistence, he got a more substantial meal of beef manhattan with mashed potatoes, a side salad, and chocolate cake for dessert.
After the meal, I went to my car and asked him, “Can I take you somewhere?”
“No,” he said sadly. “I have nowhere to go. But please, don’t let this bother you. You’ve done more for me tonight than I have ever asked for. Thank you.”
Then he walked away before I could say anything else.
(back to TOC)
****
Home for the Differently Animated
A group of philanthropists were touring a home for the differently animated. The facility was introduced to help zombies who lost some crucial mental or physical attribute during their conversion. One representative named Frank was skeptical about the zombie culture and would make patronizing remarks under his breath.
Brains for the Zombie Soul (a parody) Page 10