A while back I told you I don’t know how I became a zombie. Still true. And I don’t know why I haven’t met any other zombies. Also still true, as far as I know. But I’ve been thinking about how a PI might discover zombies if there are any in the vicinity. Zombies, not PIs. If I could locate even one – again, zombie, not PI – we could compare our memories and circumstances, and maybe develop a Theory of Zombification.
“Man! I.Am.Beat.” Me. One letter from the end of the alphabet.
Not beaten. Never beaten. Unless somebody finally comes after me with a cricket bat or a big freakin’ rock or something.
That’d suck big time.
Nah. I’m just tired. I had no idea how much time and mental energy it would take to keep you all entertained by “blogging”. But I’m kinda into it. Powerin’ up my brain. Sharin’ my undead unlife. Yeah, I’m gonna keep writing. But not every day because… rebel. Rebel zombie.
I figure once or twice a week is enough. Who knows – maybe I’ll figure out how I turned zombie, and I’ll let you know in a “blog post”. Maybe you’ll watch for ’em in your Reader. Maybe you’ll Like ’em, and Comment. Maybe you’ll even read ’em. But you know what?
I don’t effin care because… Zombie. Rebel zombie.
Think I’m gonna thaw some Shower Dude chunks for dinner. Get my undead synapses fired up for The Final Challenge – ZED.
“It’s x-A-v-er.” Xavier T. Walden, New Guy at Hot Times
Yeah, I got x-A-v-er.
It coulda been worse. I mighta gotten The Guy Who Didn’t Shower or The Girl Who Giggles Like Minnie Mouse or one of The Twins Who Never Shut Up. I wouldn’t have minded Amazing Pierced Girl or Brooding Boy. Or even The Dude Who Doesn’t Know His Fly’s Open because a clueless partner would be almost as good as no partner at all.