It may look pretty, but it's zombie Point of Entry #1
Aha! I've FINALLY found something to dislike about Green Victoria, the sleepy old house that Corb and I purchased a few months ago.
No, it's not Lake Tittypeepee, the small body of water that has formed in our front yard as a result of all the rains we've been having lately. We kind of like that (as well as the River Ragina that flows around the house...and yes, you can tell that we both have the mentality of ten-year-old boys, right?) No, this is something far, far more serious than that.
Deadly serious.
This past Saturday, as Corb finished watching Dawn of the Dead in the den, he looked over at me and said, "Our house would be the worst place in the world to hide during a zombie apocalypse."
And it's true! What were we thinking? This house is all open and windowy, containing plenty of glass that zombies who don't care about those things could crash and break, and then climb through. We'd have nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. We'd be reduced to zombie food, faster than you can sing the first lyric of that old Motown song!
Oh, there's the basement, I suppose. But that has windows, too, and besides, it's all cold and cementy, and who would really want to hide down there? It would not be a comfortable way to survive. Besides, I can't imagine that the zombies wouldn't find us down there in fairly short order and start gnawing away.
That does it. Come this week-end, I am heading straight to the nearest Home Depot and buying up as much plywood and nails as I can find, so I can better protect the homestead. Oh, this may seem a little extreme, but as every zombie movie created demonstrates, when the zombie apocalypse comes, it will be sudden and it will be swift, and there will be little time to prepare. So what if I have to wait decades, and maybe...even worse...NEVER. As every good Boy Scout will tell you (especially, as Tom Lehrer will tell you, if they come upon a Girl Scout who is similarly inclined), "Be prepared."
Or, maybe I'll just do nothing about it. I don't know. We'll see what the week-end brings.
No, it's not Lake Tittypeepee, the small body of water that has formed in our front yard as a result of all the rains we've been having lately. We kind of like that (as well as the River Ragina that flows around the house...and yes, you can tell that we both have the mentality of ten-year-old boys, right?) No, this is something far, far more serious than that.
Deadly serious.
This past Saturday, as Corb finished watching Dawn of the Dead in the den, he looked over at me and said, "Our house would be the worst place in the world to hide during a zombie apocalypse."
And it's true! What were we thinking? This house is all open and windowy, containing plenty of glass that zombies who don't care about those things could crash and break, and then climb through. We'd have nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. We'd be reduced to zombie food, faster than you can sing the first lyric of that old Motown song!
Oh, there's the basement, I suppose. But that has windows, too, and besides, it's all cold and cementy, and who would really want to hide down there? It would not be a comfortable way to survive. Besides, I can't imagine that the zombies wouldn't find us down there in fairly short order and start gnawing away.
That does it. Come this week-end, I am heading straight to the nearest Home Depot and buying up as much plywood and nails as I can find, so I can better protect the homestead. Oh, this may seem a little extreme, but as every zombie movie created demonstrates, when the zombie apocalypse comes, it will be sudden and it will be swift, and there will be little time to prepare. So what if I have to wait decades, and maybe...even worse...NEVER. As every good Boy Scout will tell you (especially, as Tom Lehrer will tell you, if they come upon a Girl Scout who is similarly inclined), "Be prepared."
Or, maybe I'll just do nothing about it. I don't know. We'll see what the week-end brings.
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