Here
Come the Zombies
“Bar
the windows, lock the doors.
Scan
the airwaves, look for more...
How
do you kill what's already dead?
Aim
for the head!”
Inevitable
Zombie Apocalypse (Aim for the Head)
I
was standing in the parking lot of the Bama Flea and Antique Mall
yesterday in the sweltering heat, stuffing the trunk of my car with
the things that hadn't sold from my booth in 7 weeks. A guy pulled up
next to me in a white paneled van, jumped out, all lean and buzz-cut,
and ran around to open the back doors. We commiserated about the
heat, and he remarked on my trunk full of cute little stuffed animals
that nobody wanted to buy. I asked what he sold in his booth and he
told me, “All kinds of military supplies, ammo packs, canteens, gun
cases...” That seemed strange to me in a place that advertises
itself an 'antiques mall'. When I asked if he sold a lot of it, he
offered, “Oh, heck yeah. I can't keep enough. These folks around
here think the world is coming to an end. They're stocking up for the
zombie apocalypse.”
I
could only gape in wonder as he proceeded to pull out and toss into a
shopping cart brand new canvas, rifle-shaped bags with leather
straps, and army- green ammunition belts, the kind that GI Joe hangs
over his shoulder when he heads out to slay the enemy. I watched him
thinking, 'there's a whole world out there that I know nothing
about!'
When
I met my cousin for lunch last week, she handed me a newspaper
clipping to give to my zombie-loving daughter-in-law. The headline
read, 'Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse'. The article touted a
training course for us twenty-first century city-dwellers to learn
'real world survival techniques'. The article prominently featured gun and
knife skills and information about how to kill the already dead. Once
again, I prayed for the Mother Ship to come for me. I'm pretty sure
I'm on the wrong planet.
I
have been pondering for a while the meaning of all this 'end-times'
hype—this underground swelling of irrational fear that is gripping certain
parts of the culture. Is it just an excuse to buy guns and run around
in the woods playing soldier, or is it something much more sinister? I worry far more about the 'locked and loaded' citizens,
who truly are 'walking deadly', than I do about zombies (who, after all, don't exist). As for me, I refuse to live in a
state of fear. If they come, they'll find my old bones dried up and
not very appetizing. I'll offer them Liza—perhaps they have a taste for skunks
posing as yard dogs.
In
the spirit (and live body),
Jane
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