Zombie, MN

by R. J. Kottke

  2:15 post meridiem

  The guy was still outside, and the girl was still busy with the door when I decided to slip outside for a moment and do some housekeeping around the yard.

  First, I went out back and checked to see if there were any signs that E.M.'s cat had dug any more holes. All clear. Check complete. The only thing I saw was a half-eaten grub which I happened to step on when I wasn't looking. Thank you Gail Svensen!

  Next, I took care of some “business.” The girl told the guy to put two drops of probiotic in my water before she went to the hardware store. He put in ten. By all accounts, it is working. Double check.

  As no one was paying much attention to me, I decided to enjoy my freedom and mosey on up to the front yard to see if there was anything interesting going on up there.

  The guy had dragged the trash can up front and placed it on the curb for pick up. Score! Score! Score! I carefully looked up and down the street and saw no sign of the trash man. I looked behind me to make sure the guy was engrossed in his bat conversation so I could do some “investigating” before it got hauled away.

  The “trash sniff” is one of the most important tools that one can have in his or her tool chest. You see, this particular sniff opens a world full of information and provides access to highly secretive and pertinent data. One must be very thoughtful, not to mention stealthy, when performing this most basic and ancient practice.

  Step one: Look disinterested. Looking too interested might lead to inquiry, thus discovery. Instead, look at something on the ground like a speck of dirt or an old toenail clipping.

  Step two: Exhale deeply but not too deeply. Lung capacity is everything. Remember, the more you breathe in the more you take in.

  Step three: Move into position. Find the “blind spot” which allows you more time to do your job.

  Step four: Don’t let your passion get ahead of you, causing you to force your nose into position and perhaps, noisily dislodging the evidence. Doing so will lead to you being discovered, and of course, being swatted on the nose.

  Lastly and most importantly, don’t forget to record everything you have learned in your research book. This provides data for later comparison.

  2:30 post meridiem

  During the process of my aforementioned investigations, I saw a bat laying on the street near the trashcan, trying to make its way into the storm drain. I was careful because I couldn't remember the last time I had been vaccinated against rabies. As I got up close, I could see that the bat was still moving, or should I say, “sparking.” Little bolts of electricity were coming off its body and I spied something that looked suspiciously like a transmitter radio on its back. Cyborg bat! Sound the alarm!

  I ran and got the guy, and barked and barked until he followed me around. I used my nose to point but alas, it had snuck down in the storm drain and any evidence had gone in with it.

  2:35 post meridiem

  The bad news: The girl insisted that I come in to have my nose swabbed off with lavender water and my teeth brushed with her homemade doggie vegan toothpaste. After that, I was to sit in my playpen, which was conveniently placed outdoors for the whole neighborhood to see.

  The good news: My doggie door is installed. It's a good thing too because I think that probiotic is working again.

  11:35 post meridiem

  I had just finished checking my yard for cat activity when I saw the suit in the mirrored glasses again. He was on his knees and was sticking a long pole into the storm drain. After some time, he pulled it up the same cyborg bat that I had seen earlier. He collapsed the pole and got into the passenger seat. I saw a faint silhouette of a woman in the driver’s seat. As they pulled away I tried to hide myself in the shadows, but I’m fairly certain the man caught a glimpse of me.

  Day 9: Night Moves

  11:59 post meridiem

  I was sure that a late night rendezvous around the yard was exactly what my therapist would have ordered, that is if I had the opportunity to present my suspicions to him concerning what was going on around this town. I anticipated that this behavioral exercise would not only stimulate my creative, emotional side, but it would also help me to put to rest any fears I had concerning zombies with pink packing peanuts for brains.

  I patiently waited for the guy and girl to finally go to sleep. The girl was in bed first; the guy had to clip his toenails and moisturize before he finally settled down. Only after the lights went out was I able to begin my investigative research.

  Before I headed downstairs, I tiptoed my way into the office and drank what was leftover in the guy's cup. Wonderful; a dark roast with just a tad bit of heavy whipping cream; a perfect way to create a cozy nighttime atmosphere.

  What was my first stop of the night you ask? The dirty clothes hamper of course. Since it was in the hallway, I figured that beginning my research there would fully activate my nose receptors. Not only is the hamper filled with delightful smells, additionally it provides a most superb source of information on the activities of the day. It is my custom to carefully examine and catalog each article of clothing.

  After this was accomplished, I made my way downstairs into the kitchen and ever so gingerly lifted open the lid to the treasure chest carefully tucked underneath the kitchen sink. Inside, wonderful smells greeted me - smells that can only be described as otherworldly. How fortuitous! There was enough in there to allow me to throw together a small, exotic meal made up of cuisine from earlier this evening. Because I am an adventurous soul, I am willing to try new and creative culinary combinations.

  After I finished my late night snack, I slipped out my doggie door and into the warm humid night. A slight pungent smell alerted me that Gail was nearby.

  I made my way into the backyard and in the shadows saw a figure that I recognized to be that of a skunk. I had no desire to take any chances so I called out, “Gail?” The scratching stopped and I heard back, “Eh.” He came out of the shadows, a grub hanging out of his mouth.

  My desire to find out what was going on overrode my desire to wretch. “Gail, I need your help. What can you tell me about these peanut headed zombies?”

  Gail swallowed the grub and licked his lips. “So you're finally getting it, eh? Did one of those zombies try and eat your brain?”

  I had only a small idea of what he was talking about. I needed more information. “Tell me what you know.”

  Gail looked over his shoulder and spoke into the dark, “Come on out guys, we need to brief him.”

  Out of the trees and from the night sky came an assortment of secretive agents: one squirrel (Sider), one chipmunk (Cheddar), one bunny (Buster), and two crows (Carl and his wife Midge). Up to this point, I didn't know that crows married.

  I wasn't sure whether to run and hide, or squeal like the guy when he saw the bat flying around in the house. A bunny, a squirrel, and a chipmunk. These were rodents and wild ones at that. And crows, didn't they eat dead things off the road? What was I getting myself into?

  “Let's have a talk Frenchman,” Gail said, rather seriously. He led us all into the shadows where he began a rather extraordinary explanation. “There are four types of folks in this town: real zombies, practical zombies, agents, and normal folk, much like yourself.”

  Before Gail could go on, Buster Bunny interrupted, “Gail, you sure he ain't a zombie too?”

  Before I could get myself in a lather, Gail assured, “He's one of us, eh. I made sure to smell him real good that first night.”

  I wanted to ask what business he (a skunk) had of smelling me (a dog), who had just recently returned from a day at the groomer’s, but I didn't get a chance to as Gail continued.

  “The zombies, they've already had their brains sucked out and packed with pink packing peanuts. That’s why they got that glazed look in their eyes. Have you ever noticed them doing weird things, like repeating things over and over, or sometimes just staring? Sometimes they start things and don't finish, or sometimes they finish something they haven't started.”

/>   Cheddar chipmunk piped in. “They talk about dumb stuff like the latest game they watched or worse yet, the weather. They never talk about anything significant like the meaning of life. And they never ask the right questions.”

  Gail picked back up. “Then there are the practical zombies. They're not quite zombies yet, but they’re just a step away. They like to associate with zombies, talk about zombie things, and think like zombies. They're all for the zombie agenda. They just haven't made the decision to become completely zombified. Once they do however, they can voluntarily go to the hospital to have the procedure done, and the government subsidizes the bill.”

  “What procedure is that?” I asked, not really wanting to know.

  “Brain liquefaction. That's step one. Step two is having their heads stuffed with packing peanuts. Man, woman, child, it doesn't matter. If you don’t want your brain, they’re happy to suck it right out and put FDA-approved packing peanuts back in.”

  Midge Crow cawed, “People can even have their pets processed too.”

  That made me think of E.M., her cat and her grandson. I wondered if she got a package deal for the whole family. Hopefully they didn’t charge by the pound; Robbie’s one big boy. I wanted to ask about E.M.’s cat, but it seemed more important to pursue another line of questioning. “And what’s the appeal of having one’s brain sucked out?” I shuddered involuntarily, I rather like my brain.

  Sider Squirrel made a dashing leap onto a nearby tree branch. Hanging upside down he flashed his tail and made an excited kukking sound before he explained, “They don’t want to think anymore! Nope they don’t! Thinking too much is too much work for them! They'd rather someone else do all the hard lifting. Feeling sad is too depressing for them and they're just bored of being bored. Peanut heads don’t have to work at pretending to be free anymore! They just do what the man tells ‘em!” Sider let go and landed safely to the ground, acorn in his tiny little hands.

  “What about the agents?”

  Gail was distracted digging up another grub, so Carl Crow squawked, “It's their job to watch over the zombies. You know, re-stuff their heads with peanuts when they fall out. Those zombies don't have a lick of sense. I can't tell you how many times I've seen them running into a wall over and over. And when they trip and fall, they’re helpless. If it weren't for the agents, they'd lay there come rain or snow.”

  Buster Bunny hopped in, “They also make sure the market is supplied with enough cow brains to feed all the zombies in town, otherwise, they'd be after our brains.”

  I shuddered. “Why would they be after our brains?”

  Gail, with his mouth full of grubs, answered, “They want what they don't got, eh. They got no brains so they crave ‘em.”

  This was beginning to sound downright catastrophic. “So how can you tell which ones are normal?” I asked.

  With a flick of his tail Gail said, “That's easy, eh. They're the ones still asking questions.”

  I was confused. I didn't quite understand and Gail noticed. “If all else fails Frenchman, smell them. They're the ones with the horrible chemical smell.”

  3:45 ante meridiem

  I am ready for sleep. I have traveled long and far and have learned much. Before retiring to bed, however, I made one last stop on my nightly circuit. Because the girl keeps careful watch of me during the day, I find my only chance to truly get a good smell of the guy's shoes is late at night.

  After I took a big whiff around the rim of his loafers, I found that I was not disappointed.

  I am now snuggled tightly and securely with Jody in my bed, ready for my morning slumber.

  4:00 ante meridiem

  The guy has just woke me up for a morning run. I think this may be a nightmare.

  Day 10: Night Life

  6:20 post meridiem

  Finally. Sweet sleep. After my early morning run with the guy, I collapsed on my doggie bed and began dreaming as soon as my head hit the pillow. But the girl, who is usually not an early riser, decided this morning to get a head start on the day and wanted me to accompany her. You would think that a dog staying up all night and then going for an early morning run would be allowed to sleep in peace. Not so!

  After my unappealing breakfast of canned Italian-style lutefisk, (the girl kept saying, “But Bippy, you love fish”), I was forced to go on errands with her.

  I had hoped to take some quick doggy naps in the car as she flitted around town, but that did not happen. Instead, the girl dragged me into each shop and since no one objected or even seemed to take notice of me at all, I spent the morning helping her find the perfect serving platter. Just when I thought we were on our way home, the girl decided that I needed socializing in the local dog park.

  I tried using my dead weight tactic, but the girl was strong enough to pull me by my leash across the parking lot and before I knew it, I was standing among a park full of peanut headed dogs and their owners. The blank stares, the repetitive digging, and the constant tail wagging was a clear sign to me that something was off.

  Please don’t think me barbaric or obtrusive when I say this, because I say it with all due respect. I am BAD! I went up to one of the dog imposters and expertly and ever so precisely stuck my nose into his ear and dislodged a packing peanut. The chap didn't even see it coming. Just as I thought! Sound the alarm! Without a shadow of a doubt, here was a peanut headed dog. Oh why didn't I bring a camera with me? I tried to get the girl's attention but she just kept talking to a woman nearby who was knitting with only one needle.

  You would think that the girl would notice, with all the wide-eyed stares and people falling off the merry-go-round, that something was wrong, but she didn't. She just kept up her inane chatter about the emotional aspects of small town life. Blah, blah, blah! I wanted to go home, even if it meant another can of Italian lutefisk.

  When we got home, I crawled up in the guy and girl's bed to finally get some sleep. I made sure to leave a little extra hair behind – my way of saying thank you to the guy and girl for an utterly exhausting day!

  9:20 post meridiem

  On my way out to do a little business, I found a note lying underneath the door. Meet me out back at 11:30, eh.

  11:29 post meridiem

  I ventured out back to wait for Gail about two minutes ago, and that’s when I saw it. What you ask? Piles of dirt, just sitting out here in plain sight. I am so mad. What nerve! What raw, stinky, rotten, moldy nerve! That cat was in my yard again. Don’t you worry - I’ll take care of that cat. I have a plan. The only thing I need is some cotton balls. Oh yes, all I need is some cotton balls.

  11:30 post meridiem

  Gail interrupted my thoughts of revenge when he came out of the bushes looking rather gussied up. “I'm going to show you the zombie nightlife,” he informed me.

  “Is that why your hair is all slicked back?” I asked. I felt worried. The only thing I had done in the way of grooming today was lick down the hairs on my stomach, which were getting to be quite a mess. Oh how I missed my Chicago groomer.

  “Follow me,” Gail directed. Together we trudged through the neighbor’s flower garden and popped out onto the sidewalk leading into town.

  We walked in silence for about half a mile. The night was warm and humid and the sounds of crickets filled the air. Instead of cozy lights coming from the houses, every window was darkened, as if no one was home or everyone had went to bed early. I occasionally saw a bat, flying silently through the night sky. They reminded me of the cyborg bat that I encountered not too long ago. A couple times I saw the faint glow of a firefly.

  “Do you know anything about bats with transistor radios on them?” I asked, “Are they some sort of DNR conservation project?”

  Gail stopped, underneath the warm glow of an old fashioned street light. “Those bats are what the agents use to keep tabs on normal folks. If you've already encountered them, that means someone in your house has caught their attention. It'll be no time now before they start sending you zombie-targeted adverti
sing in the mail.”

  As I stood there trying to picture what junk mail for brain liquefaction would look like, Gail continued quickly down the sidewalk. I had to run to catch up to him. Who knew skunks could move so fast?

  11:55 post meridiem

  We made it into the heart of the town. I thought it was going to be quiet, but there was an obscene amount of people going in and out of the shops. Gail explained, “These peanut heads go about during the day but they really come to life at night.”

  11:58 post meridiem

  We watched as peanut heads made their way into the library and came out carrying stacks of books. “They like to eat them because they can't read,” Gail stated matter-of-factly. What a perfectly good waste of French literature I thought.

  12:01 ante meridiem

  The local ice-cream shop was hopping. Outdoor tables were filled with teenaged peanut heads eating double and triple scoops in waffle cones. “They like brain flavored ice cream,” Gail explained, “They can't stand strawberry, chocolate, or vanilla.”

  12:05

  The movie theater was playing Peanut Farm. Long lines of peanut heads queued up for a chance to get in. Gail told me that instead of eating popcorn, they ate popped cow brains.

  12:10

  We walked by an old man sitting on a quaint bench with a young child, his grandson I presumed, eating what looked like a picnic lunch. It would have been quite an idyllic scene if it weren't for the fact that they kept opening their picnic basket, over and over, without taking any of the food out. “What'd I tell?” Gail said, “They don't have a bit of sense.”

  12:30 ante meridiem