I left work at 9:15 Friday morning, less than two hours into my day with the distinctly flu-like symptoms of the side effects of my new inhaler (Advair).
Have you been on public transport, sick? A woman I knew ages ago told me how her mother always had a plastic bag in her purse, having once witnessed a woman vomit on the bus.
I grabbed a Target bag out of my desk on the way out.
Although I didn’t end up using it, I wasn’t far off.
But I wasn’t the only one looking ill. Perhaps it was in reaction and/or sympathy to my own sad, gray face, but frankly, I doubt it. I rode the number 10, and everyone knows those people don’t care about anything.
And that got me thinking.
When the zombies come, how will we know?
Look around! Even from my perch on the bus, peering down into cars, ogling pedestrians, I’m amazed at the number of people who seem unaware of their surroundings.
People who are not mentally present. People who wish they were anywhere but where they are.
People who may or may not want to eat your brains.
It’s just a theory; and frankly, one without much behind it, but it keeps me amused.
We’ve got silver bullets for werewolves, and wooden stakes for vampires; but how are we going to get rid of all these zombies?
Terms of Endearment
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