Dad and I were going over to your sister’s to bring dinner tonite. Dad had made a yummy soup, I made a salad. Dad wrapped the pot of soup in a towel and put it in the back of the car, same with the salad and salad dressing. Dad was driving down Hwy 224 when both he and I spotted three tiny new goslings trying to cross the road. Dad slammed on his brakes (The driver in the car behind him slammed on his horn). Dad jumped out and, despite stupid drivers whizzing by, assisted the goslings out of the travel lanes and then up the curb, to their waiting and freaked out goose parents. In the meantime, back at the car….from slamming on the brakes, the pot of soup slid all the way forward (by the way, we had the seats down in the back), up against the front seat, then tipped over and spilled all over the back of the front driver seat and floor….
We spent the next hour at your sister’s mopping up soup…..the dogs helped lots….
Zombies don’t stop their car for others (especially nonhumans), let alone get out of the car to help them navigate the ridiculous and unnecessary dangers of the toxic concrete death strips scarring we call roads scarring and bifurcating the world’s life support systems. As microcosms of the rest of civilization, zombies run down life, perhaps only wondering in passing why “those stupid animals get in the way.” Here’s a toast to the wild courage of uncivilized folk (humans and nonhumans alike), and perhaps many more pots of spilled soup (ok, maybe that part is avoidable)!
I encourage readers to prep for the zombie apocalypse, because it’s here. It’s now. And it is us.