It is that time of year again when all the scary movies come out of the archives from 1972 to air on public access cable. Ah, the smell of fresh zombie blood and mutant ooze is in the air. And as I posed as child zombie for my Halloween portrait yesterday, I got to thinking about zombies in general. Zombie attacks. The inevitable zombie take over. You know, cheerful subjects like that. Then it reminded me of my own experience with a zombie attack.
Well, it wasn’t really a zombie. Nor was it really an attack.
Here is how it all began. My roommates and I all walked down to the bar to celebrate our old roommate’s birthday. There was some karaoke involved, lots of drinks, and a little dancing. Before we knew it the hour had gotten late, and it being a Monday night my roommates decided to head home. But I, upon noticing the recent arrival of my favorite Queen in town, decided it would be a better idea for me if I stayed out drinking and partying.
So as the night wore on and my Queenie friend found a beautiful boy to soak up all the attention, I was feeling a little tired and neglected. I decided to walk home. Alone. By this time, however, It was about one o’clock in the morning, and I don’t exactly live in the best neighborhood (it is awesome, beautiful, and historic, but it is also downtown…) As I was walking, I noticed a guy following me from a few blocks back. Since no one else was on the street, I could only deduce that he was a threat and clearly out to eat my brains. I kept an eye on him.
The nearer I seemed to get to my street, the nearer he seemed to get to me; having started at four blocks behind me, he was now only two. I rounded the corner onto my street, got out my phone, and proceeded to drunk dial every single person in my recent calls list and explain “If I disappear or my mangled body is found tomorrow by the police, I was definitely alive at this time at this intersection, but there is shady character following me.” Even while I was drunk dialing my last words, I kept constantly looking back to make sure that I knew where the dodgy guy was. It was at this time that I noticed his jerky, uneven walk, his tilted head, and his general demeanor of creepiness (mind you, at that time it wasn’t even horror movie season yet). I turned back around to dial my roommate and as I did so this very slow man must’ve turned briefly into a ninja, because I saw him behind me about a block, then suddenly he stood right smack next to me, blocking my path down the sidewalk.
Immediately I made for the street, but he was in my way again (I was drunk, and therefore not as fast and agile as my usual inner cheetah thought I was). He mumbled something that I couldn’t understand, and then he drooled down the front of his shirt. Gross. I yelled at him “I CAN’T UNDERSTAND YOU.” Luckily, my roommate, who was on the phone in my hand, understood me and started asking questions. Not even on speakerphone, I could hear her more clearly than ‘incoherent faltering man’ who stood in front of me. I continued to yell at him as if he were a dog (“NO,” “SHOO,” “GO AWAY”) as he made hand motions for a lighter, which of course I didn’t have or care to give him.
Somewhere in his ridiculous mind he got the idea that he should definitely hug me, that maybe this would make me hate his existence less. He was incredibly wrong. As he tried to hug me, he more-or-less just fell in my direction, knocking us both over. He heard my roommate’s voice on the phone that I dropped in the fall, and obviously thinking the phone call was for him, he picked up my phone.
That’s when I lost it. I hate to be separated from my phone, and I sure as hell hated this character by now. So I kicked him in the nards. Right in the ole’ undead man sack. He even doubled over in pain in slow motion! I grabbed my phone from his hand and took off running.
Not a block away I met up with my other roommate who had been told what cross streets I was at by the first roommate. He looked quizzically at me as I came tearing down the street in my heels, screaming “GO HOME!!” to apparently no one.
When I reached him I paused to catch my breath, and muttered the only explanation I could think of at the time, “I think I was just attacked by a zombie.”
Without even a hint of disbelief his reply was, “Well shit, don’t show him where we live, come on!” With that we circled the block at full speed and finally discretely made it back to our house.
And that is the story of my zombie attack.