If I had to choose one thing in this world that everybody loves (besides Raymond), I think I would be perfectly safe in saying that that one thing is clearly zombies. Really, zombies are just cool like that, virtually any situation, be it Junior Prom, the President’s State of the Union Address, or Kim Jong Il wrestling a flaming puma (not that that wouldn’t already be pretty interesting, even aside from the fact that Kim Jong Il and the Flaming Pumas would make an ineffably sweet name for a band), all it takes to spice up an otherwise dull social occasion is a tasteful sprinkling of zombies. But before I get any deeper into the sprightly subject of the walking dead, let’s have a little history.
The zombie was first invented in 1657 by Sir Isaac Zombie, who, while catching a nap in a nearby graveyard next door to an accursed swamp of evil and a Hardee’s, first noticed the convergence of evil and unholy powers betwixt the three, and theorized that with enough dark power concentrated on a graveyard, it might be possible to raise up innumerable legions of undead zombie minions, or as the Indians called them, maize. Simultaneously, and a continent away, Nelson Mandella made much the same discovery, though his inadequate grasp of international magical patent laws allowed Sir Isaac Zombie to take full credit (which is why, whenever you throw a party, you can’t get the two of them to even talk to each other). Zombies were of course, an immediate hit; everyone from mad scientists to diabolical warlocks to soccer moms wanted a few to guard their fortresses of doom and/or drive the kids to bassoon lessons.
Eventually though, the zombies grew restless, and after learning that, as unholy abominations crudely knitted together from the flesh of the departed and imbued with a shoddy and blasphemous simulacrum of existence, they would be last in line to buy Playstation 2s, they rebelled. It wasn’t long before one of the zombies, attempting to perform a noogie, accidentally discovered that human brains were delicious, which did very little to settle down the zombie mob, who might never have been stopped, had they not made it into Washington D.C. and starved to death.
After the Great Zombie Debacle of Aught Two (also a good name for a band, in case you have an aversion to pumas and North Korean Dictators), as it came to be known, newer, more user friendly zombies were developed, and pushed into early production by overwhelming consumer demand. It wasn’t long before every child’s birthday party had forsaken ponies in favor of the ever-popular zombie ride, zombie petting zoo, and of course, the zombie clown making zombie balloon animals. It wasn’t long before they started showing up on network television, though their poor oratory skills and penchant for eating the cue card guy ensured that that particular venture was a short-lived one. On a more successful note, Dick Cheney recently bought a few hundred of them, that his Ziggurat of Doom and Make Your Own T-Shirt Emporium might be all the more impressive. Zombie-flavored Slurpees, on the other hand, were a complete failure in every state except for the evil ones (
It was with all this in mind, that I found myself in a pool hall, this Tuesday last, playing billiards with a couple of my crackers, and thinking about zombies, as I am wont to do. Serendipitously enough, the resident Jukebox had “Don’t Stop Me Now” in its repertoire, and we decided to reenact a scene from “Shaun of the Dead”, you know, the one with the zombies in the pool hall. Alas, something went horribly awry, and instead of playing suitable zombie-bashing music, we were treated to a lengthy selection from the Dixie Chicks, who, for all their charms, don’t exactly inspire me to wield a chainsaw and start hewing away at the living dead. To make matters worse, this was followed by a song by N’sync, which made me want to wield chainsaw and start hewing away at the nearest boy band, though unfortunately, this being a pool hall of great poise and classiness, none were to be found. So there we stood, wondering which of the people there were actually the zombie we’d get to beat up when our song finally played, and though many of the patrons shewed signs of zombism, the Jukebox continued in its orneriness and we had to leave.
It was all just as well though, since after I got home, I learned that zombies are in fact a protected wetlands species in the state of
