Zombie

Zombies are depicted as flesh-eating, puss-oozing, low-intelligence creatures that come out at night and terrorize the human race. There are many cures for this horrid plague, most of which consist of some form of death. Destroy what is left of their brain, dismember them, axe them, burn them, starve them, chain them up and keep them as a pet. But whatever you decide to do, you can never reverse the effect completely.

I had tried them all. I was clearly starving, I’d nearly set my kitchen on fire in a attempt to make toast - unsuccessfully, due to the fact that I fell asleep -, I’d constantly been injured for the past two weeks, and if I wasn’t drunk, I was curled up on the couch trying to block out the world with mind numbing made-for-television movies.

I was a zombie. I had been for months. I didn’t crave human flesh, and I didn’t ooze puss and I wasn’t mentally incompetent, but I was a zombie. I was numb on the inside; the pain was working its way through from the out. I wouldn’t let it, and of that I was convinced. I wouldn’t let it get me. The zombie wouldn’t get to my heart.

Now as I sipped at a bottle of something with an amber tint to it, watching a movie with a title that wasn’t worth remembering, I was slowly letting my guard down and letting the numbness fade and slowly the pain was seeping into me. I blocked it - I really tried. It was getting more and more difficult by each passing hour, time lurching by devastatingly slow.

The ring I held slowly slipped from my pale fingers and landed on the floor with a metallic thud. I remained emotionless on the outside, but the noise had startled me. The movie rambled on in front of me and I slowly grew angry with it, and groped around for the remote control, flipping the television set off with a sigh. It was dark now, and I took a gulp from my bottle, and I was a little bit more numb with every passing mouthful.

Aside from the headache-inducing motion pictures and spells of alcoholism and malnutrition and lack of sleep and broken heart, I really was fine. And aside from my sudden disinterest in bathing and constant emptiness and completely isolating myself from the outside world and all its hurtfulness, I was happy and normal. And I liked to see the bright side of things.

The best ways to kill a zombie - use your very best acting skills and pretend like nothing ever happened.