chapter Fifteen
A few years ago, when I was thirteen and my brother Theo eight, my father got the bright idea that the four of us should go on an exciting, fun-filled family vacation. Jamaica, you ask? Paris? Hawaii? Disney World? Don't be silly. While those are places any normal parent might find exciting, my father chose a week-long cattle drive vacation in Wyoming.
"Wow!" Theo exclaimed as Dad popped the sales video into the VCR. Yes, you heard me, V-C-R. Don't ask. "Look!" Theo shrieked when horses and cows appeared on the screen. "That one has poop hanging out of its butt. That is so cool."
"Well, it's so something," I said, looking on in horror. "If I'm not a laughingstock at school yet, I'm sure this is just the thing I need to push me over the top."
For thirty long minutes, we watched families ride horses, herd cattle, eat grotesque-looking meals out of tin plates, and sleep in beds with blankets that appeared to be made of burlap. When the torturous video was finally over I asked my parents to
do me a giant favor and murder me in my sleep. I was as good as dead if we went on that trip. Mercifully, my request put an end to the idea of any family vacation in the Johnson household.
Now, however, as I ran toward the jock zombies, something from that video played back in my mind:
When herding cattle you sometimes need to cut a calf off from the herd.
Suddenly I was grateful I hadn't walked out on the video or yanked it from the VCR and set it on fire. There was actually something instructional in that dumb sales video, and 1 was about to put it to use.
The bell for fourth period had just rung, and sense memory sent most of the zombies in the corridor lumbering off to class. Only the trophy case zombies following me and the jocks in front of me remained.
"Hey, zombies!" I called as I neared the jocks. The jock zombies slowly turned, their hungry eyes falling on me. Great, I thought. I've got their attention. Ignoring the fact that I was surrounded, I stood my ground as the zombies in front of and behind slowly closed in.
"That's it, fellas. Come to Mama."
When the two groups were practically in striking distance I ducked into the girls' bathroom to my right, making sure I didn't move too quickly. Cutting--as I'd learned in the cattle drive video--was a delicate maneuver.
The first part of the maneuver was to herd the cattle/zombies into a pen. I chose the large handicap stall in the girls' bathroom as my pen. I headed for the stall, making certain I didn't move too quickly. I needed to be just a few steps ahead of the slow-moving zombies. Once inside the stall, however, I moved at breakneck speed, hopping onto the commode,
boosting myself up and quickly over the side, making sure I was out before the zombies started in.
The sluggish zombies began entering the stall.
I zombie walked back around to the entrance of the stall, joining the pack, pretending to be one of them pushing to get at me. But in truth, I was shoving zombies into the stall, making certain Dirk wasn't one of the zombies going in. Then, after all the zombies but Dirk were in, I slammed shut the stall door, jamming it with a wad of chewing gum. The zombies inside were too busy pushing forward to realize their escape route was behind them.
I turned to Dirk, who had successfully been cut from the pack. A soft moan emanated from deep in his chest.
"Mmmmmmmph."
His ghastly green fingers reached for me. His ruby red eyes gazed hungrily upon me as gobs of drool slithered down his chin.
Ohmygod! He's sooo cute!
Tome on, Dirk. We've got some training to do."
I pulled a hunk of raw ground beef from my Baggie and held it out to him. He lurched forward, grasping for the meat. I took a few quick steps backward.
"That's it. Follow me," I said as I lured him to the office of my guidance counselor, Miss Everheart.
Training a zombie is a lot like training a dog. You have to realize he only has one thing on his mind: food. To have success with zombies, the zombie must think of you as the sole provider of food when he does good, and punishment when he is bad.
Once in the office, I sat Dirk across from me and pulled out my supply of raw meat hunks and a rolled-up newspaper.
"Hello, boyfriend," I cooed.
Dirk growled, snatched up my hand, and tried sticking it in
his mouth. Smack! I swatted him across the nose with the rolled-up newspaper.
"Yeeeeee!" He let loose a high-pitched whine and shrank back. He gazed at me, fear dancing in his eyes.
"Okay," I said, brandishing the newspaper. "Let's try it again. Hello, boyfriend."
I dangled the hunk of meat in front of him. Cautiously, he took it from my hand, then gobbled it down. Success, I thought. It was Dirk's first step in becoming my boyfriend.
After that day life was even more perfect than before. Aside from the occasional boyfriend trying to kill me, I was living the dream. Most popular girl at school, chairperson of all the important committees, and to top it all off, I had a boyfriend.
Top Ten Advantages to Having a Zombie Boyfriend
10. You will never catch him starting
3. He will never try to convince you to go all the way. ("All the way " has a whole different
meaning in zombieland. If you've gone all the way with him, welcome to the living dead.)
2. He will never choose his friends over you. (Zombies
don't have any friends. If you provide him with meat, you're his lifelong pal)
1. And the number one advantage to having a zombie boyfriends. You will never hear the words
"We need to talk." (That's right, he will never, ever, dump you Yary!)