HELP! Send in Brad Pitt! I’m Out of Coffee and Surrounded By Zombies

Dear Folks,

I don’t know how to tell you this, but we were down to the bottom of the jar on java this morning, scraping grains, slurping dregs. So instead of watching the news, we watched some clips from “Gunslingers” on the Heroes Channel. It was interesting and a lot less violent.

And who wants to make a Walmart run on Sunday morning? I did it once before church. It was an awful experience. Never again.

So I told Mike if worst came to worse — or whichever way that phrase goes — I would try scraping tree bark to put on to boil. I think I read that someplace. But Mike said,

“No. That was acorns. You burn them and mash them up and boil them. But, hey, that’s your job. Burning stuff.”

And you know what? I was so coffee deprived I didn’t even take offense. I just vaguely thought about smacking him sometime in the unknown future.

So we just sat around and drank our dregs for a little while, watching these guys talk about Peacemakers and Smith and Wessons and what a psycho John Wesley Hardin was. So after a while I thought,

“What the hey. I’ll just check out the old Smart Phone.” (It’s new and grist for another grueling blog).

So after I checked out everything everybody was throwing at me on Facebook and Mike checked out his, we just gave up. We surrendered to the inevitable. Mike bit the bullet, showered and shaved, and went to Walmart. That’s where he is now, bless his dear brave soul. I know there’s nothing wrong with the store, it’s just that on Sunday morning nobody’s sane. Everybody looks like extras in “World War Z”, especially the employees.

So I’m just sitting here, desperately seeking coffee. I remind myself of some of the western movies, with the protagonist crawling across the burning desert floor, a mirage wavering on the horizon — cool . . . clear . . . coffee. I mean water. My brain is parched and shriveled. That’s it’s usual state, but without coffee . . . it ain’t a pretty picture.

My thoughts keep crawling with a Hitchkokian flavor toward current events and the people and actions that keep crawling out of them. Okay. I’ve said “crawling” twice in the same sentence. That’s a writing no-no. And that’s scary. I’m losing it.

So I go to wash my hands and face and try to avoid looking into my eyes. But, hey. I reach for a paper towel to dry my hands and notice that my dear husband who had insulted my cooking, had filled the dispenser. It warmed my heart so much it sent a little blip to my brain — you know, how my new Smart Phone sounds when somebody wants attention. Blip. So I picked up a handy magic marker — purple, I think. Doesn’t matter. And wrote a note to my darling on the top towel. It said, “Thank you, darlin'”  His random act of kindness almost brought me to tears. So, okay. I’m losing it.


I go back in the living room and start typing this drivel again. But Mike still isn’t back yet. Walmart is only twelve miles away. (This is the country, you know. Nothing’s close). What could be keeping him?

Oh, no. I keep thinking about those Walmart zombies. Maybe they’re real. And then, I have an epiphany. They’ve taken over the world. Zombies have taken over the world!

How else to explain so many people with no hearts, no souls, no brains, destroying everything around us. Killing innocent people at church. Shooting Marines in a shopping mall. And on and on and on.

I hear the sounds of their scraping and clawing getting closer and closer. I know now that I’m surrounded. There’s no way out. Now I can hear myself screaming — not just silently in my head, but really screaming —





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