Night of the Living Totally Awesome Blog
A blog about zombies? This guy must live in his parent's basement and craft tiny suits of armor for the rats he has befriended.Nope.
Wouldn't that be sweet though? An entire army of furry, armor-clad William Wallace's.
I digress.
With the soon to be released, Left for Dead, from Valve, the gears in my head started grinding. What would I do if I was faced with wave after wave of walking dead trying to chomp on my Blue Ridge Mountain Oysters?
Let me preface this by saying, I've always been a fan of zombie movies. The original Night of the Living Dead was released in 1968 and filmed in black and white. I want to say that I saw it for the first time when I was about 9 or 10. This was before I learned the blood was chocolate syrup and the zombies were eating roasted ham instead of human flesh.
Call me Mortianna, because it haunts my dreams like the painted man. Kill them....kill them both... (cough) sorry, a little Morgan Freeman/"Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves" tangent. Oh yeah, have you heard about this? Out this summer, "Driving Mrs. Hoochie" starring Morgan Freeman. By the way, what the hell was God doing, cheating on his wife and driving like Nick Hogan? Ouch, too soon?
By the way, am I the only one that has bad dreams anymore? I'm talking about nightmares that make you turn the TV on and glance around, then when the coast is clear, jump out of bed to check the closet. When you make sure the Boogie Man isn't in the closet you run back to bed and jump about three feet short so he can't reach out and grab your leg before you hit the sheets. Hypothetically.
Through the years I've always had the same dream. You know the one, where you run and run but never get away. The only thing that has changed over the years, in said dream, is the addition of a sultry sidekick, but this isn't the forum for a discussion about my adventures through puberty.
One night I could be outside, in a forest or field, trying to escape neon colored zombies (they come in all colors, shapes and sizes). Another night, I could be inside, running from room to room like Benny HIll chasing topless french maids. One thing remains constant, I'm always running. I wish running in a dream translated into physical exercise because I'd make Jack LaLanne look like pre-Subway Jared Fogle. The only thing worse than dreaming about crazed zombies is laying in the wrong position and having my arms fall asleep. In that moment between sleep and awake, I think my arms are paralyzed and I start freaking out. Half asleep, struggling to move my arms, I flail around until I manage to throw one fist in the air, Judd Nelson style. Cue "Don't You Forget About Me" by Simple Minds. Hey, hey, hey, heeeeyyyy!
This is just the prologue so there's more to come whether you like it or not. You don't have to read it. You know what, don't read it! You can't even read good, anyway!
To Be Continued...