The Zombie Shuffle

I have developed an aversion to the sound of laughter. Not at all times. Just when I'm in my room and the awful sound creeps down the stairs and under my closed door. It paralyzes my brain and shreds my nerves. It's like crashing symbols waking you from the first hour of sleep you have gotten in a week.

A girl in my Nonfiction Creative Writing class (aka, my current Sisyphus experience) wrote an essay about preparing for the zombie revolution. It was hilarious and refreshing, but there was one part that got to me. She mused about what she would do if she were to wake up a zombie one morning. I did not understand this. Doesn't a person need to get bitten by a zombie or something in order to become one? How would you j

ust turn into a zombie overnight? I made a comment about this on her paper. What a silly comment--I was blind! I don't remember being bitten by a zombie anytime recently, but I have suddenly realized I am one! It must have happened sometime in my sleep! Essays, exams, presentations, driving, wedding plans, essays, traveling, money, inconsideration, accusation, medication, essays, essays, essays, essays! They have been slowly wearing my immunity down until one day, I woke up a zombie, dull eyes, nasty skin and all. I want to finish the race with a bang and the end is so near, but my zombie feet can only shuffle slowly along, my decaying arms reaching weakly for what is in front of me.

I hear the only way back to normal is through laughter. Laughter and more laughter. But not the kind that comes creeping down the stairs and under my closed door.

:)