You know, I just don't like people anymore.
She had an interesting response:
I don't like people either, but I like you!
There are many ways to interpret this revelation, but this brief interchange has been floating around my head for days now.
When someone I speak to on a daily basis tells me that she doesn't like people, but she does like me, I really have to wonder...what could I be?
I'm not a little girl, I know that. I don't own rouge, and I don't know a thing about freshness.
I'm not a teapot...I'm stout, but not short.
I'm not the walrus. I aint got no tusks.
I'm not Ironman...although I may be in one, one day.
I'm not legend...not yet at least.
I'm not Tony Parker. Thank freakin' God.
Maybe this is why I like zombie movies...the stars ultimately are not human, well, not fully. Just like me! They seem to meander around, focused, trying to obtain a common goal, which is more than I can say for their non-zombie counterparts. Yeah, so they kill a few people along the way, sometimes rather brutally. Not much worse than our foreign policy on "terrorism."
Being a zombie seems to be quite fulfilling, actually. You aren't afraid of dying...so you are extraordinarily brave. You aren't concerned about job status or keeping up with the Joneses...you really don't even care about marriage, kids, mortgage, or anything really. Your daily life, from what I can tell, involves eating other people or turning other people into zombies. How many of you wish your life were that simple?
All I'm saying is that minus the blood sucking, it really doesn't seem all that terrible. And you know the old saying: If you can't beat them...eat them.
Mark Manasse is a monthly contributor to Everyone and His Mother and has been on the search for what exactly he is for years now.