Zombies Tried to Kill Us

Zombies tried to kill us, but at least the kids were safe.

Moral: Send your kids away more often.

 

Last weekend my hubz’ brother came over to hang out and have some beers. The kids were both gone — the little was at her father’s house, and the big was out somewhere with his college friends doing college guy types of things. I don’t know what all that entails, but my son did get arrested recently for a house he TPed with his friends way back like a year ago.

 

That’s a story for another day because it still seriously pisses me off. Rapists and pedophiles are wandering the streets freely — I could give you names — but, by gum, those fucking trees are safe from toilet paper now. Yippy, what brave men, those who captured a 17-year-old boy whose worst crime was choosing the wrong yard to decorate.

 

Anyway. Back to the story involving aliens and shit.

 

Zombies tried to kill us, and I wasn’t even drunk.

Moral: Maybe I should drink more often, “just in case”.

 

Full disclosure: my brother-in-law had two beers. My hubz had one. I had zero because I wanted Coke more. I mean, there wasn’t any Yuengling. So I just didn’t see the point.

 

What I hope to convey here is that this was no drunken sighting I’m about to report to you. We were all in our right minds. None of us was high or otherwise impaired.

 

Zombies tried to kill us while we were smoking.

Moral: Don’t smoke.

 

So there we were, the three of us, standing along the side of the house, each of us enjoying a cigarette (no smoking inside my house, thank you very much!), when a gigantic fucking asteroid appeared out of nowhere and lit the whole sky.

 

Zombies tried to kill us via alien invasion.

Moral: You just never fucking know when it’s coming, do you?

 

“Um, what’s that?”

my brother-in-law asked. And rightfully so, because that fucker was immense and bright as all hellz.

 

We scurried to the front porch to get a better view.

 

“Jesus, what the fuck *IS* that?”

I asked in repetitive fashion. To, you know, show my support. I think we all wanted to ensure that we were seeing the same thing.

 

The light — meteor — UFO — plane — bomb — cruised straight toward us and seemed from its trajectory as though it might consider landing on our house.

 

“Should we, like, run?”

That’s me. Fuck the house and everything in it. I just wanna live. All the rest of our shit can be replaced.

 

Well, except the cat. Someone — a husband or a brother-in-law, for example — would need to run in and get the cat while I ran to safety.

 

Zombies tried to kill us, and men are assholes.

Moral: Men are assholes.

 

The guys laughed. That’s right. They stood there and laughed at me. I didn’t think this at the time, but I am thinking it now as I’m writing it: “You two are assholes.” I shall refer to you as such henceforth in this report.

 

“Where would we run?”

one of the assholes pointed out. It must have been my asshole brother-in-law, because I remember that my asshole hubz said something next.

 

Zombies tried to kill us, and 911 would have arrested us for prank calling.

Moral: In an apocalypse, you really are on your own.

 

“We should call somebody!”

 

A moment of silence while we all considered this. And a moment of realization that…

 

WHO YOU GONNA CALL WHEN A FUCKING METEOR — UFO — PLANE — BOMB — IS COMING RIGHT FOR YOU?!?

 

(No, not Ghostbusters. Gosh. That’s *SO* twenty years ago.)

 

The light then completely went out. And in its place appeared four smaller lights that kind of floated around each other.

 

Zombies tried to kill us, and my asshole hubz left me standing outside.

Moral: Men are assholes (remember?).

 

“I’m going to call someone!”

my asshole hubz asserted as he ran faster than I’ve seen him run a long time, around the house and through the door.

 

My asshole brother-in-law and I stayed where we were, transfixed by the lights, watching as they suddenly, as if on signal, aligned themselves vertically, one atop the other, and drifted off to the south, until they disappeared into the tree line.

 

Here’s me:

“What. The. Fuck.”

I don’t know if I said this in reaction to the crazy bullshit happening in the sky, or because my asshole hubz ran away without me. It could go either way.

 

My asshole brother-in-law and I went inside to join my asshole hubz, who was on the phone with one of the news stations. By this time it was almost 10pm, so my asshole brother-in-law said,

 

“Oh, we should turn on the news!”

 

Good call, clown, except we don’t have TV in this house. I mean, we do have *A* television. But it’s all hooked up through the Xbox and the Nintendo Wii and wireless what-have-you. All those things that would be a bitch to remove if you wanted to pick up a local channel.

 

Which we do NOT because contemporary TV is bullshit. As I’ve said many times, anything worth watching will eventually be available on Netflix. So yeah. Sorry, dude, no TV.

 

He refused to grasp this concept. An argument ensued. We won because, yeah, no TV.

 

Zombies tried to kill us, and we had no TV on which to catch local news.

Moral: Thank Zeus for wi-fi. Until that goes out. Then, just RUN, motherfucker!

 

I got online, though, and Tweeted like crazy. I sent the following message to a krillion newscasters local to the Dayton area.

 

was just outside & saw what looked like a meteor south of Dayton. it split off into like 4 different lights that lined up. WTF???

— Andi-Roo ()

 

Hardly anyone responded, reinforcing my previous statement:

 Moral: In an apocalypse, you really are on your own.

 

Turns out a few other people saw it, too. When my asshole hubz got off the phone, he said that several others had called in similar reports. So at least I’ve hereby confirmed for you that we weren’t just drunk or stoned or whatnot. We were lucid and sober and freaked the fuck out.

 

Zombies tried to kill us… but then no they actually didn’t.

Moral: I hate those guys!

 

Then my sister posted a video of what I had just seen with my asshole hubz and my asshole brother-in-law. The video was dated as of the previous weekend and the event recorded had taken place in Kansas City.

 

Guess what? It wasn’t zombies. It wasn’t a meteor — UFO — plane — bomb either. Wanna know what it was?

 

Apparently it’s a “thing” now. In both cities — and several others across the U.S. — there is a new phenomenon in which crazy fuckers jump from planes and scare the shit out of people.

 

Fucking paratroopers were dropping down over a local haunted maze deal called Land of Illusion.

On the upside? They *WERE* dressed as zombies.

 

So then I was kind of right… Zombies REALLY DID try to kill us. Assholes.