Brains for the Zombie Soul (a parody) (15 page)

Finally, I went into work. My employees were so
happy to see me that they threw me a party. They said that business
had been down. As soon as customers knew I was back, the orders
came flooding in. They didn’t care so much that I was a zombie now,
they had just missed my cookies!

Soon my days were back to normal. I’d get up in
the morning, have coffee and cereal on my front porch, then go in
to work. Around three in the afternoon, I’d go for a walk. Then I’d
check back in on the store before I went home for the evening.

During one of my afternoon walks, I passed by a
high school. A large group of teens were hanging out front, sitting
on walls next to the sidewalk. As I passed, they yelled things out
like, “Dirty zombie,” and “Go back to the grave you came from.”

I didn’t go back to the shop that day, I just
went straight home. I reconsidered whether I was really accepted
into society the way I was.

During supper, one of my employees called me to
make sure I was okay. And then another called. And then a neighbor
came by. I told them all what had happened, and they all told me it
was just teenagers being mean.

So the next day, I had a plan. When I went on my
walk the next day, I walked by the school again, the same teenagers
started taunting me. I walked up to them and said, “Your comments
don’t bother me. I’ve heard a lot more compliments than your
insults. But you should be careful, not everyone has that level of
self-confidence. I will be back tomorrow.”

As I walked away, behind me the teens threw
insults like, “Oh, I’m so scared,” and “What are you going to do,
eat our brains?”

When I went back, I was armed. The same group
was there, but they hurled fewer insults this time. I walked right
towards them, and they became silent as I reached into my bag for
my weapon.

Their frowns turned into smiles when I brought
out cookies. I had baked a special batch of my chocolate chip
cookies and boxed them in individual boxes. I gave each teenager a
box with about half a dozen cookies inside.

Now their comments switched to, “Wow,” and
“These are really good.”

And then, without any prompting, each one said,
“Thank you,” and, “I’m sorry.”

(back to
TOC)

****

Playing Guitar on the Beach

After a night out with my friends, I
got in at four in the morning, and had no inclination to sleep. I
was still too wired up. So I grabbed my guitar and went to the
beach.

Since it was still early morning, the beach was
practically deserted. A figure to my left wandered slowly down the
beach, stopping occasionally to pick something up and put it in a
bag. Another figure to my right just sat on the retaining wall and
stared out at the ocean.

I laid out a blanket and took a seat between the
two and started to play. The figure on my right eventually made her
way over to me. As the beach got brighter and she got closer, I
realized she was a zombie, but I wasn’t afraid.

“You play such beautiful music,” she said. “It
gets so lonely out here, and your music makes me happy.” He clothes
were worn and tattered, and the hat on her head barely covered her
colorless hair.

“I come out here every morning,” she explained,
“and pick up the trash that the people partying in the night leave
behind. I want to make something beautiful in the world, like you
do with your music.”

Then she took a few coins out of a pouch on her
belt. “Will you play a song for my friend over there?” She gestured
to the figure sitting on the wall. “She’s always so sad. I think
your music will cheer her up.”

She handed me the coins. “I don’t have much, but
this is important. Will you accept this and play for her?”

I handed the change back to the woman. “I’d be
happy to play for your friend at no charge,” I said.

She led me over to the retaining wall. The woman
there didn’t look to be in much better shape. Her clothes were also
in poor condition, and she had a pair of broken sunglasses on. A
discolored red scarf was tied around her neck.

“This is Gail,” she told me. “She doesn’t speak
much, but she likes music.” Then she turned to the woman, who I
figured was also a zombie. “Gail, I brought someone to play music
for you. He’s good.” Then she left me while she returned to
cleaning up the beach.

I played a sweet but sorrowful song for Gail.
From her demeanor, I thought she might enjoy it. After it was over,
she turned to me and smiled. I took that as a good sign and played
another and another.

I lost myself in the music. It seemed like the
only people in the world were me and Gail. Finally, the lack of
sleep was setting in, and I stopped and looked up. A small crowd of
the early morning sunbathers had gathered, and when I stopped, they
applauded politely.

Then before I could say anything, they started
putting their money in my guitar case which had previously been
closed. I tried to stop them, but none listened to my pleas.

When they were gone, I gathered up all the money
and handed it to Gail. “This is for you,” I said. “Thank you for
letting me play for you.”

She waved her hands to decline the money, but I
insisted. She put her hands together and bowed to me to say Thank
You. I replied, “You’re welcome.”

Then she gestured again, and took the scarf off.
It confirmed my suspicions that she was a zombie. Her throat had
been ripped out, so she no longer had the vocal chords to
speak.

I played her one more song before I left, and
she gave me a big hug.

About once a week, I still return to the beach
with my guitar. And she is still there, staring out at the ocean. I
play her songs, and when I am done, she gives me a big hug.

(back to
TOC)

****

Plantation Owner

Before there were cars, many horse-drawn
carriages were driven by slaves, many of which were zombies.

One day, a prestigious plantation owner and his
fair lady where riding in their carriage to town for a ball, when
the zombie driver found a large tree had been knocked into the
path. The tree was likely toppled over in the storm the night
before.

The master ordered the zombie to move the tree.
Although he worked as hard as he could, he couldn’t get it to
budge. So they summoned the zombie slaves from a nearby house to
help, but still they couldn’t move it.

When the owner of the slaves they had borrowed,
Mr. Archibald, came home, he went to find out where all his zombies
had gone. He found them struggling to lift the tree. After getting
a few saws from his shed, he handed all but one of the saws off and
started hacking away at the tree himself.

“Oh, you shouldn’t work yourself so hard,” said
the plantation owner and his mistress. But Mr. Archibald continued
working, and with his help, the tree was moved in no time.

The next week, Mr. Archibald was out on a ride
through the fields. He jumped the horse over a stone wall. As the
horse landed, its back hoof caught the wall, knocking the stones
over. His riding companions said, “Oh, just leave it for the
zombies to get.”

Mr. Archibald ignored his companions,
dismounted, and went to pick up the stones. He made them wait as he
reassembled the wall, and then they went on their way.

Several months later, all the plantation owners
in the area were having dinner together. They were discussing the
recent rash of zombie slave runaways.

“Why, just yesterday I lost my two best zombies.
They even had all their limbs!” said one master.

They were all comparing how many of their
zombies had run away, when someone asked, “Mr. Archibald, you’ve
been so quiet, you must have lost tons of zombies.”

“I haven’t had a single zombie runaway,” he
said. “And all my zombies have their limbs. They’re very good
workers.”

Silence descended on the room. Everyone else was
in awe of how well Mr. Archibald ran his house. “But how do you do
it?” someone asked.

“Well, I just treat them like equals,” he said.
They all gasped. “I give them a wage. And they get periods of rest
and three square meals a day...”

“You feed them?” one man said. “You don’t just
let them find rats and dead carcasses in the fields?”

“Oh heavens no!” said Mr. Archibald. “And look
at the difference it makes! My zombies are the strongest and
healthiest. You can’t even tell that some of them are zombies.” He
took a sip from his glass. “Plus, there’s no such thing as runaways
if they’re free to leave whenever they like.”

A woman said, “Oh, that’s your loophole then?
Fine, how many of your zombies have ‘left on their own
accord.’”

“Well, none. Naturally,” he replied.

He really wanted to add, “In fact, all of your
zombies are coming to me,” but he knew better.

At the end of the season, his farm produced more
than any other, and he was the richest man around. The next spring,
he even got married... to a zombie wife.

(back to
TOC)

****

Zoo

A disturbing trend
has begun to pop up all around the country. In the zoos, next to
the lions and tigers and bears, organizers have been opening zombie
exhibits.

At first, they were a huge success. The
zookeepers would capture zombies, put them in a cage, and feed them
buckets of brains. People flocked to the zoo from all over to look
at the zombies from the safety of the outside world, while the
zombies were trapped behind bars and glass.

Soon, the people stopped going to the zombie
exhibits. They called them boring, because the zombies didn’t do
anything. So the zoos started publishing the feeding times.

That didn’t work for long. When the people found
out that the zombies didn’t run for the brains, they got bored
again. In fact, the zombies didn’t eat the brains at all.

So then they tried giving the zombies the chunks
of meat that they gave the large cats. Still, they got no response.
They called in zombie experts, but no one could get the zombies to
do anything in their cages.

In the meantime, Zombie Rights protesters
started gathering outside the zoos. They chanted and carried signs
like, “Free the Zombies,” “Honk if you love Zombies,” and “Zombies
are People too!”

One day, one of the zombie supporters asked the
zookeepers if he could talk to the zombies. They were afraid that
he would try to liberate the zombies. Finally, he got them to agree
to lock him in the cage with the zombies.

They expected (and really, were kind of hoping)
that the zombies would attack him. Instead, he went and talked to
the zombies for an afternoon. At the end of the day, he knocked on
the door, and they let him out.

The next day, he did the same thing. On the
third day, in the early afternoon, he stood up and all the zombies
rose with him. The zookeepers stared in astonishment as the zombies
started to sing and dance.

The zombie rights supporter kept coming back,
and the zombies would perform with him every afternoon. Soon, the
zoo started to sell tickets.

In the meantime, other supporters from the
Zombie Rights Campaign contacted their senators. The argued that if
the zombies could organize such a performance on their own, that it
was inhumane to keep them locked up in cages.

Another political group argued that the shows on
their own did not show independent intelligence. They proposed that
the zombies take the SATs, and if they averaged at least 1500 on
the SATs, then they would be set free.

Zombie tutors were organized to visit the
zombies on a daily basis to prepare them for the tests. They soon
found that the work wasn’t as hard as they thought it would be,
since the zombies retained the knowledge they had from their
previous lives.

Finally, the day came where zombies in zoos all
across the country were tested. Zombie supporters argued that the
zombies should be set free as soon as the test was completed, but
they were denied.

Four weeks later, all the scores were tallied.
The zombies collectively had a better than average score of 1700!
Many zombies were released from the zoos and accepted instantly
into Ivy League colleges. It was the first step towards zombie
equality.

(back to
TOC)

****

Amusement Park

During summer break, two teenage boys went to a
popular theme park. They got there early so they could be first on
all the roller coasters.

They were the first in line and the first to get
into the park. They passed a zombie pushing a broom along a clean
path and whistling happily. “What do they have a zombie cleaning a
park for?” said one boy loudly.

“Yeah, zombies are so filthy. What’s the point?”
said the other boy.

“That’s probably why they have him cleaning a
clean park. He probably doesn’t know the difference!”

The boys threw their pop cans and chip bags at
the zombie. “Here you go,” they taunted. “This is dirty. This is
what you’re supposed to sweep up!”

They walked away laughing, but ran into another
group of teenagers from their school. “Don’t worry about throwing
your trash in the dumpsters,” they said. “Just throw it at the
dirty zombie.”

All day, at every ride, they told the people
around them to litter the ground with their trash. They also pushed
over every trashcan they found and emptied them out onto the
sidewalks.

That afternoon, the ground was covered with
trash. The park had to start closing rides down because trash was
getting into the tracks. People started leaving.

Then one of the boys said, “Oh no, my cell
phone! I lost my phone! I must have dropped it somewhere.” They
began retracing their steps, looking over the ground for it. The
sidewalks and grass were so covered with trash that the phone could
be anywhere.