Undead Anonymous

when you’re a member of the living dead, there’s not a whole lot to be thankful for.  bloat and sloughage and hydrogen sulphide farts aside, the stigma of being a zombie in a world ruled by the living makes the torment of being a high school nerd seem like a birthday party.

i don’t have any rights.  i can’t talk a walk without being pelted with expired food products.  my friends have abandoned me.  my mother’s disgusted by me.  my father wants to sell me to a research facility.  and i live in constant fear of indiscriminate dismemberment.

if you’ve never had your arms ripped out of their sockets by a gang of drunk fraternity pledges who then slapped you in the face with your own hands, then you probably wouldn’t understand.

helen always tells us to look on the bright side of things.  to accentuate the positive.  to remember that although we’ve all lost more than our share, we need to keep our chins up.

sometimes i wonder how many hits of acid helen did while she was alive.

i suppose helen’s right.  it doesn’t do me any good to think about everything i’ve lost.  helen says that we need to let go of our past before we can embrace our future.  i’m still working on that.  right now the past is all i have and the future looks about as promising as the new fall lineup on cbs.