I live in a 4-level split home. It's in a nice neighbourhood, with very little or no crime. I live near a couple of schools and a high school. There's even a church or two down the street, if the urge ever comes to me to go pray or something. I love my home very very much, but in recent weeks and months, I've begun looking at my home in a very different way. My house is NOT "zombie-proof".
The main floor has a big bay window facing the street and patio doors to the rear, both providing great visibility to the undead, if they ever decide to reanimate and roam the earth. As well, the living room and spare bedroom, also have large windows, which would provide a determined zombie, with brains on the mind, to gain access to my home. These are the things that freak the shit out of me, late at night when I'm watching "The Walking Dead" or any of the "Resident Evil" movies. What the hell would I do, if such an event were to occur? I don't own any weapons, not that I'd be a very good shot anyway, as I found out last year when taking target practice with a f*cking BB gun. I seem to shake too much, while holding the heavy instrument. I'm such a chick!
My sister's house is perfect. A one level home with limited windows facing front, excellent window coverings on all, and best of all, direct entry into the garage. So if escape is necessary, no one is placed in danger of being ravaged. As for me, I have to leave my front door, then fumble with keys to get into my garage, all the while fighting off hungry zombies. I'll have my work cut out for me, if the occasion should ever arise. Perhaps I should have "zombie drills" in the meantime, to get myself in proper preparedness.
The thing I don't completely understand about zombies, though, is what drives them to crave human meat? Does it taste like chicken? Or more specifically, brains! Why do so many zombies crave human brains? And I also wonder, has there ever been a zombie who bore into a human brain, only to sit back and grunt, "Aaargh. Thisss isss terrrribllllle...! Wherrre'ssss a Mickey D'ssss?" And what if a person was a vegan before they were a zombie? Would they rather carve into a head of lettuce?
The entire idea of a Zombie Apocalypse is so preposterous. In watching the season finale of "The Walking Dead", there was a production note saying that on the night of filming, the air was so cool, that the breath could be seen from the actors playing the zombies. So post-production had to go over every frame of film and erase the breathe via CGI. This raised some questions with me. If a zombie does not breathe, how are they able to grunt and groan or in some movies, speak the word "brains". In order to squeak, squeal, grunt, groan, howl or holler, air needs to pass over the vocal chords. If the undead don't breath, how are they able to do all of these things?
This isn't the only question to cross my mind, either. Another logical conclusion seems to be eluded from every zombie-esque type film of television show. I'm not sure if the subject has been broached in the comic book, that "The Walking Dead" is derived from, but: With all the meat and brains that zombies take in, do they shit? Why is it you never see a zombie squatting in a street or an alley or next to a bush, pinching out a soft gooey loaf of shit? I doubt that they'd wipe off any excess. They're rotting corpses, after all. The smell of shit, might be a blessing in comparison.
If zombies do indeed shit, it is possible, I suppose, that they'd do it right in their pants. Proper hygiene seems pretty low on their list of priorities. Most of them, don't even comb their own hair. What they do do, however, is maintain a, somewhat, healthy wardrobe. Of all the zombie movies I've had the privilege of watching, the zombies have always kept their private parts private. I'm not some kind of sicko hoping to see naked rotting titties, but one has to wonder. The clothing always seems to be tattered and torn, but never enough that zombies are left roaming the countryside, au naturel. It's like the Incredible Hulk, in the sense that Bruce Banner is a smallish man, yet when he loses his cool, and becomes the behemoth man-beast, all his clothes tear away, except for his trousers which stretch to accommodate his incredible size. Just as the lowly zombie tears and rots away, his trousers (or her pant suit) stays intact just enough to cover the necessities. I suppose this is a good thing, as zombies tend to "live" off the land, just as beatniks and hippies do.
So that being said. In the end, I haven't anything to be afraid of. I can sit idly by in the comforts of my own home, watching my television set and drinking from my glass, safe in the fact that even if a Zombie Apocalypse were to arise, there's nothing to fear, because who's afraid of a f*cking hippy? Not this guy!
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