We’re headed to the Zombie Convention tomorrow in Greensboro, North Carolina, and already I’ve had not one but two frightening things happen to me in the past twenty four hours.
Ben left the house last night for band practice, so I snuggled up with woman’s best friend on the couch and tuned into the scariest program I could find on television. I’m not talking about Ghost Hunters or even Wife Swap.
I’m talking about VH1’s I Know My Kid’s a Star.
In the midst of a horrifying stage mom meltdown my dog, Nelly, popped her head up from my lap and whipped her head around toward the window. She was transfixed by something on the other side and I did not want to turn around and see what it was.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see the ceiling to floor vertical blinds parted in the shape of an upside down slide of pizza. That’s because my fat cat, Tough Guy, was fast asleep at the bottom in his usual post Friskies binge coma.
He makes for a pretty terrible watch cat.
It took every last nugget of courage left in my reserves, but I began to follow my dog’s gaze out the window. I saw nothing but darkness until something closer to the ground began to move.
I did exactly what horror movies tell you not to do which was move in closer to inspect. I was preparing myself for one of the mangy, mean neighborhood cats, or even a vagrant. After all, I don’t live in the safest neighborhood in Charlotte.
Surprisingly, it was neither of the two.
IT WAS A GIANT ROTTWEILER WITH ITS NOSE PRESSED UP AGAINST THE GLASS!!!
I wanted to yell, “AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” but instead I screamed, “HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!!!”
He sat there staring at me for a minute while I stared back with my mouth still open paralyzed by fear. And then I saw that he brought along an accomplice, a tiny, tan, Pit Bull puppy sans collar that I immediately recognized.
Ben and I had chased him down the street with steak in our hands months prior because he looked lonely and we wanted to give him a home.
So just to give you a good visual, go ahead and imagine me in a hot pink Great White Shark t-shirt with pajama pants and no shoes on throwing steak up the street toward a dog that is clearly running away from me.
It is really no wonder that:
1. Our neighbors don’t socialize.
2. He brought his bodyguard along with him this time.
Nelly wasn’t growling at them, so I took the liberty of doing so and sure enough they headed for the hills. Now I know that makes me sound a bit tough, but truthfully I spent the rest of the evening screaming, “HEEEEEEEY!” into the shadows every time I heard a creak. Just call me Fat (Scared) Albert, all right.
Then this morning I was approached by a ferocious cricket spider with a brazen disregard for my solo shower ritual.
Ben was still sleeping soundly when it took a flying leap onto my face, so he burst through the door to my rescue after I again yelled something other than the usual “AHHHHHHH!!!”
Instead I screamed, “EEEEEEEEOOOOOOOO!!! EEEEEEEEOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
Sprickets! I hate those things!
Also, I love Rottweilers and if this one comes back and doesn’t make any attempt to eat cats I might have to go running down your street with venison as bait!
At least you didn’t go down into the cellar wearing a diaphanous negligee and pink mules with fluff on the toes, pushing away the cobwebs and saying ‘hello, hello??’ toward the creepy squeaking sound emanating from the dirt filled coffin. I’m glad you have some common sense. For a moment there, I was worried.
Cujo! Run!
hahahahaa.
Emily – We didn’t have sprickets back in Texas, so the first time I saw one I thought I was hallucinating.
Beth – According to my bra size if I’d been a character in a horror movie I would have been offed a long time ago.
Rebecca – Dee Wallace would have known what to do!
Wow, a zombie convention? That sounds like a good time. Not so much anymore, but I used to be quite the zombie enthusiast, and I still count Night of the Living Dead among my favorite movies (i can remember my younger days, going to bat for that movie with my friends who enjoyed the more current fare: “there’s even a social message at the center of it, man!”). I always liked the way Romero used the radio and television reports of the crisis as suspense.
Anytime I find myself in an awkward social situation or Wal-Mart, I always hear those pearls of wisdom: “Kill the brain, and you kill the ghoul.”
“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!!! EEEEEEEEOOOOOOOO!!! EEEEEEEEOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
The new single by April. In stores now.
I’m with you on NOTLD!
Also, I never even imagined this would happen, but I’m actually going to meet George Romero come September.
He’ll be in town screening Diary of the Dead and judging a slew of local, short zombie films. I hope to be involved in the one he dubs the coolest.
And I hope I don’t have an aneurysm if that happens.
That’s cool you’re meeting Romero. Good luck with your film; I hope he deems it the best.
What is your involvement, if you don’t mind me asking.
I hope you don’t have an aneurysm either. Actually, that could be your next zombie movie project. Woman wins zombie film contest, drops dead of an aneurysm, and then comes back to life from the dead, forcing Romero and the rest of the contestants to fight for their life….or something.
Back to work.
I’m sorry, cricket spider? Like… a spider with wings. Sweet jesus, I think I just pooped myself.
I may have come because I have clicked through from Sarah’s Brood, but I stay for the lol-inducing mental image of you running from danger making completely inappropriate noises of alarm, including but not limited to HEEEEEEEY.
And now, my silent cubicle laughs have turned to snorts and aroused the interest of those around me. Excellent work.
Wendy – They exist, they attack, and our house is full of them. I don’t even know how I sleep at night.
Nora – This is going to sound embarrassing, but since when do I care? I recognized you straight away from the Sarah Brood’s comment section.
Thanks for sticking around to laugh at me!
I like to think of it as “laughing on behalf of.” It seems less debilitating to think that others laugh on behalf of, and not at, me.
Nora – I think I’ll adopt that as well. It would make for less crying in public.
I kid, I kid.