Friday, December 21, 2012

Confessions of a Teenage Zombie

Well, it's happened. The mayans predicted it and damn if they weren't spot on. Yeah, I'm a zombie now.

 I got Z'd up (Slang credit: John Green) a couple hours ago when I heard a sound coming from my back door. I knew it was the 21st, but like every other seemingly sound-minded individual on the planet, I thought it was a hoax. Which is why when I opened my door, I expected to see my cat, begging to be let in from the cold, and not the zombified version of my 6 foot asian neighbor coming at me with his mouth slacked and eyes tinged with yellow.

Being a zombie isn't as bad as movies and television has made it out to be. I've retained a fair amount of my motor skills, and "the stink" hasn't started yet. One thing I'm kind of worried about, though, is my braces. I've thought about hobbling to my orthodontist to ask him if he could take them off early, seeing as a "picture perfect smile" isn't exactly a necessity for the undead. (Because I'm sure all the teenage boys are ready to look past my green-tinted skin, decaying insides, and lust for their brains as soon as they see my pearly whites.) But I figure he'll just freak out and try to attack me with whatever sharp orthodontic instruments he can get his rubber-gloved hands on.

 I'm worried my braces may inhibit my biting abilities. If I'm going to be a zombie, I may as well be the best zombie I can be, right? But what if I bite people, and instead of just contracting the zombie virus, they also get tetanus? Then I'll have a bunch of lock-jawed zombies running around, handicapped by their inability to bite human flesh, and it'll be all my fault. The entire downfall of the Z race will plummet, and it will be on my slowly decomposing shoulders.

Maybe it won't be so bad. It's probably better that the humans win, isn't it? I may have been one of the first to enter the Z pack, but that doesn't mean you uninfected don't deserve a chance.

I know I said that being a zombie isn't that bad, but I'm starting to realize all the things I didn't get to do in the human world. I don't harbor a lot of large regrets, just small ones--the things that I put off or dismissed as unimportant. I wish that I'd been nicer to this person. I wish I'd traveled to this place. Wish I'd written more. Read more. Connected more.

So if you're reading this, and your heart is still pumping blood through your veins, enjoy it while you can. Be alive, do things, build something better for someone in this world that is so full of decay.

I'm typing this up on the laptop of a guy in Starbucks whose brain I just devoured whole. (For the record, brains? Every bit as mushy and slimy as you'd expect.) Poor sap, I noticed a word document open on his desktop with an unfinished screenplay he had obviously been working on. It's not bad, either. I could probably see Paul Rudd playing the lead. Anyway, it's getting pretty difficult to type because my fingers are starting to fall off. Post-World Problems, am I right? Ah well, happy apocalypse, everyone. iufyhjrbnklihbrainssssss...

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