Tuesday, June 19, 2012

The Zombies are Coming, The Zombies are Coming


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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