Night of the Living Renal Failure: Part 1October 27, 2008
Well… it finally happened to our little town. We got our own zombie holocaust this year. Now the streets are full of the undead, eating brains and such.
But they’re not eating my brains. I’m hiding out over at Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat’s house. Zombies never go after cats; they’re too hard to catch.
“So where’s Marlie?” I ask Bernie as we sit up in his attic.
“She’s out getting some supplies,” Bernie says.
“You sent your wife out there?” I say. “Out there where all the zombies are?”
“No, it’s cool, check it out,” Bernie says, pointing to the attic window with his paw.
And so I look out the window and I see zombies wandering the streets, and weaving in and out of the zombies is Marlie. She’s got a plastic shopping bag full of liquor bottles in one hand, her trusty coffee pot of whiskey in the other, and a look of total inebriation on her face.
“See, if Marlie gets really drunk, the zombies can’t tell she’s not one of them,” says Bernie. “She can stay out there all day and not be in danger of getting her brain eaten.”
“But is Marlie so drunk that she can’t find her way home?” I say, noticing that Marlie seems to staggering up to each house on the block and getting a close look at their front doors before presumably figuring out that isn’t her house.
“It’s not a perfect system,” Bernie says. “But it gets the job done most of the time.”
“Does she only bring back liquor and beer?” I ask.
“Cat food too when I remember to staple a list into her hand,” Bernie says. “Then again… I am running out of staples…”
I think I need a new hiding place from the zombie hordes.
To be continued…