End of the Line
the world as we know it.
I used to love zombies. Everything that I had ever learned about zombies from movies, comics and songs made them seem so…awesome.
I mean, the flesh eating, living dead were just so cool! What wasn’t there to love about something that walked around without much of a purpose other than to eat human flesh? Nothing, that’s what! The fact that they were such picky eaters was kind of weird though. In the comics, they never resorted to animal meat, even when all of the humans were seemingly dead or hidden away tightly.
Which, in a way, was kind of ironic. At least to me it was. The vegetarians I knew always complained about how bad it was to eat animal meat, but when they watched zombie movies with me they didn’t give a damn. I always wanted to ask if they thought that the humans had more of a right to be eaten than the animals did, but I always bit my tongue. Was it a conspiracy created by the PETA people? Were all of the artists behind the comics secretly vegetarians who were plotting revenge for the poor animals on the human race?
Or did animals not taste delicious enough? I wrote it down somewhere in a notebook to ask that if there ever was a full-scale zombie invasion. I’d capture one, duct tape it to my wall and ask it very seriously—maybe even with my brother’s glasses on—why they didn’t eat dog or cat.
In a dream once, the one I captured answered, “Because they taste like shit, that’s why!”
But zombies…they were just so damn cool! I wondered if there could be a zombie-vampire (or a zompiree, as I had deemed them in my mind) for the longest time, which would be the ultimate fighting-and-creeping machine. Not only would they eat flesh, but they would also drink blood and have cool Hungarian accents. They’d also be more attractive, having traded in rotting flesh for pale, awkwardly flawless skin.
As a plus to the surviving human race, the rotting bastards could only come out at night! I mean, the humans could run around all frantically during the day in search of refuge, and by nightfall they could box themselves into their temporary havens and wait out the life span of the moon night by night by night. Though it wouldn’t be as cool as a zombie that didn’t have any boundaries or guidelines to live by, it sure as hell would’ve made the humans so much luckier.
Sadly, though, there weren’t such things. But there were zombies.
And they were no longer cool.
I mean, the flesh eating, living dead were just so cool! What wasn’t there to love about something that walked around without much of a purpose other than to eat human flesh? Nothing, that’s what! The fact that they were such picky eaters was kind of weird though. In the comics, they never resorted to animal meat, even when all of the humans were seemingly dead or hidden away tightly.
Which, in a way, was kind of ironic. At least to me it was. The vegetarians I knew always complained about how bad it was to eat animal meat, but when they watched zombie movies with me they didn’t give a damn. I always wanted to ask if they thought that the humans had more of a right to be eaten than the animals did, but I always bit my tongue. Was it a conspiracy created by the PETA people? Were all of the artists behind the comics secretly vegetarians who were plotting revenge for the poor animals on the human race?
Or did animals not taste delicious enough? I wrote it down somewhere in a notebook to ask that if there ever was a full-scale zombie invasion. I’d capture one, duct tape it to my wall and ask it very seriously—maybe even with my brother’s glasses on—why they didn’t eat dog or cat.
In a dream once, the one I captured answered, “Because they taste like shit, that’s why!”
But zombies…they were just so damn cool! I wondered if there could be a zombie-vampire (or a zompiree, as I had deemed them in my mind) for the longest time, which would be the ultimate fighting-and-creeping machine. Not only would they eat flesh, but they would also drink blood and have cool Hungarian accents. They’d also be more attractive, having traded in rotting flesh for pale, awkwardly flawless skin.
As a plus to the surviving human race, the rotting bastards could only come out at night! I mean, the humans could run around all frantically during the day in search of refuge, and by nightfall they could box themselves into their temporary havens and wait out the life span of the moon night by night by night. Though it wouldn’t be as cool as a zombie that didn’t have any boundaries or guidelines to live by, it sure as hell would’ve made the humans so much luckier.
Sadly, though, there weren’t such things. But there were zombies.
And they were no longer cool.