While cruising the desolate back allies of the WWW, I read an article by Roger Collier over on the Ottawa Citizen. Mr. Collier shined a light I’d never seen before. Sure it was funny when I saw it on a t-shirt, but I had never really given it much thought. Zombies really were people too.
“Hath not a zombie, amid its rotting organs, a heart that once beat as strong as yours doth now? If you prick a zombie, doth it not ooze? If you bisect it with a chainsaw, doth it not moan? (I realize that zombies moan constantly, but they seem to moan extra loud when you cut them in half.)”
Honestly, I have issues with a few of the statements in the article, such as: “If you spend more time on a treadmill than elbow-deep in a chip bag, you can avoid zombies with ease.” Firstly, I have only slightly longer than average arms and a bag of Cheetos isn't half that deep; trust me. Secondly, with ease? Maybe one Zombie, but the standard of the apocalypse is that Zombies don’t come in onesie-twosies. They come in entire populations of large cities. No amount of toasted corn abstinence, or light jogging, will make living in constant danger of being cannibalized by a lurching corpse easy.
That, however, doesn’t detract from the humor of literary currency like, “let's not forget that zombies didn't choose to be zombies. Do you think anybody gets up one morning and thinks, "You know what would taste great with this coffee? My neighbours." If you’ve got five minutes and a need for a chuckle, drag yourself over to The Ottawa Citizen (here) and give it a read. Don’t, though, take it to heart and hug you nearest Zombie; I’m pretty sure people like us are allergic to being eaten alive and reanimated.