We’re in the home stretch of October and things are really starting to come to life.
I mean literally, coming to life, as in the Zombies across the street, starting to stir.
Yep…it’s that time of year again and they’re chomping at the bit…which is always disturbing.
I mean they are Zombies, even if they are my neighbors.
If you’ve been following the Retort for a while, you’re familiar with my experiences with the local undead.
I first wrote about them a couple of years ago.
How, after all this time, they’ve become so in vogue again that all they do is shuffle around town with big heads.
Which, in and of itself, is kind of obnoxious, but what’s worse is that most of the time they’re not even their own big heads.
If you have been paying attention—and granted, I know that’s a stretch of an assumption—you also know that for some reason my neighborhood has more than its fair share of ghouls residing in it.
Vampires, witches, werewolves…all on the same block.
Not sure why….
Maybe because it’s close to the park.
Everyone likes being close to the park.
Well, except for the werewolves.
The werewolves hate the park…mostly because there’s a no dog rule, and if a full moon should happen to rise, unexpectedly, they get a lot of dirty looks from the other park patrons.
Which is unfair….
I mean they’re wolves, not dogs.
But most people don’t differentiate.
That’s just how it is.
They see fur and they immediately see dog and call the cops.
Or worse, grab a stick and a torch and start chasing them themselves.
There’s nothing sadder than to see a family of werewolves, enjoying a nice evening, minding their own business, chewing on a piece of chicken—so what if it’s uncooked…and maybe a little still alive—one minute, and then, due to no fault of their own, other than an unwanted sensitivity to lunar influences, transmogrify, and spend the rest of the evening being chased by people with torches and sticks.
I mean the sticks are one thing…but torches…really?
A bit melodramatic in my opinion.
But that’s how people are.
And the rest of the ghouls are no better.
They’re just happy it’s not them.
Especially the Zombies, who are already putting up the spook house on their front yard.
You know…in front of their real house that’s actually pretty much like any other house on the block, which you might find surprising.
They actually have one of the nicest lawns on the street.
I think it’s got something to do with the special kind of fertilizer they use.
If they see a dead spot, they just shave a little necrotic skin off one of their own limbs—or whoever’s limb they happen to have on them at the time—and by the next day, the grass is vibrant and alive.
How are the rest of us supposed to compete with that?
It’s actually kind of fun, though, to watch them construct this house of horrors, every year.
Zombies have notoriously bad communications skills.
You almost never hear a Zombie talking. They mostly just nudge and gnash their teeth a lot.
So there’s a lot of bumping into one another, banged thumbs and knocks on the head.
Which, for a Zombie, is not a good thing since they can be a little fragile…both physically and emotionally.
And if you’ve ever seen a Zombie cry, well…you know what I’m talking about.
But the hissy fits don’t last long. If they drop an arm or a leg, they’ll just grab another one, even if it’s still attached to another Zombie.
Gotta love this time of year….
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