Showing posts with label monroeville zombies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label monroeville zombies. Show all posts

T'was the Night Before Halloween, Plus Zombies (Shaun of the Dead Sequel Poem)

(As part of the Humor Bloggers Halloween Humor Carnival)


T'was the night before Samhain and all through the mall
The zombies, they found it a great human haul
All hungry they'd tripped to this mecca of dosh
And readied themselves for a holiday nosh

The humans had come here in bright fancy dress
With visions of prizes, for those who were best.
A few conjured witches, a few crept as cats,
Here sulked emo vampires and there-- other twats.

When out from the food court arose a great murmur,
Like massage chairs gone wonky in Hammacher-Schlemmer.
Away to McDonalds I flew like a flash;
Were they giving free chips? It would save me some cash.

The moon through the skylight above Chick Fil-A
Gave the tile floor a spotlight in silvery-gray
When, what to my red, jetlagged eyes did appear
But that gaggle of zombies in zombie-like gear.

With a corpse in the lead just so bloody and fat
Well, I ran off to purchase a strong cricket bat.
As slow as molasses these zombies they came.
(Bought baseball, not cricket-- plus thrower-of-flame)

Now Gimpy, now Pinhead, now Jason, and Freddie
On Limpy and Nigel and tens of old deadies...
From Perfumes in Macy's to the front of the stage,
The undead they oozed in their undeadly rage

I stood firm and waited, just tapping my bat
And cursed my bad luck. I mean, who would think that
I'd fly off just to meet an American friend
And wouldn't you know? Bleedin' zombies-- again!

My friend only frowned. "What's that thing for, Shaun?"
"They're zombies! Get ready. Here, turn this thing on."
As I passed the flame-thrower, and was ready to swing,
The zombies, they did a remarkable thing.

They were forming a queue, one right after the other.
This with popped eyeballs, that-- one ugly mother.
They queued and they shuffled up front of the judges
They gave their best moans, their best drools, some nice trudges

Their jaws how they slackened, their lips how they drooled
And yet no one ran panicked. "They're zombies, you fools!"
Yet shout as I did, the crowd wasn't afraid.
"Shaun, it's our annual costume parade..."

"...They do this each year," said my friend of the hoard.
And he showed me a sign. "Zombie Walk." Oh, good Lord.
"You took me to this after all I'd been through?!...
"...Ed's undead in my shed!" "Well, it's something to do."

So I grabbed the flame-thrower, I bagged up the club
I pushed past three zombies and hit the mall pub.
And my friend called to me as I stalked out of sight,
"Their mixed zombies are great. But order me a Bud Light?"

--------------------------------------------
Humorbloggers
Humor-blogs

Help Cabbages Get Inked!


Tomorrow's my annual adventure to the local amusement park, Kennywood. Where wooden roller coasters still clack onward... And Potato Patch fries are slathered in a delightful day-glo orange cheese that was only once vaguely acquainted with a cow.

How I love it!

But our discussion today will not entail just how many chili cheese dogs it's possible to eat before extending them in altered form to the coaster population as a whole...

Or about taking bets on how long the kid in the Garfield costume can stand 80% humidity before smothering in a pile of sweat, faux fur and chickenwire...

Or even predicting the Rorschach pattern of bruises I'll have after three rounds of jouncing around on the Exterminator. (Once I got an excellent seatbelt buckle-shaped bruise on my butt!... It kinda looked like Spongebob.)

But nope. Today, I want to talk to you about tattoos.

See, the one thing I've come to notice, as I wend my way through Kennywood's mouse-maze of ride queues, is that somehow I have come to be the only person in the entire tri-state region who isn't inked.

Grandmas sporting the barbed wire... Teens unveiling the disembodied heads of the Jonas Brothers... Hog-riders flapping Harley wings... Infants showing off that edgy Gerber logo, symbolizing their induction into those tough pre-school gangs...

Yes, one and all, they are branded with their interests... wearing their image on their sleeve. Or 48-inch waist. Or whatnot.

And then there's me.

But, see, the thing about tattoos is, they're pretty much forever. I'd want to really be certain about anything I put on myself until the end of time. I mean, I haven't even had the same shade of hair for more than six weeks sequentially...

How can I commit to something likely to hang around so much longer than that Spongebob seat buckle butt bruise?

So here's where you folks can help. If I were to get a tattoo and blend in with my fellow amusement enthusiasts, what should I choose?

Here are some of the things I was thinking about:


The Monroeville Zombies logo.


It says local. It says undead. And anyone who sees how pale I am would find it entirely believable. Plus, y'know, nobody wants to mess with someone who might, potentially, try to nibble your arm. I imagine I could get through those long concession and ride lines much quicker!


Old King Cole Slaw.


Marketing promotion meets body art! And it would end up being such a conversation piece!

Stranger: "So-- what's with the crown-wearing lettuce?"

Me: (sniff) Lettuce?! It's so clearly a cabbage! And what's with your Woody Woodpecker? I mean, he hardly had the charisma and talent of Bugs Bunny, did he?

See? I'd be destined to make all sorts of new friends!

The only drawback? Old King Cole Slaw becoming famous like this... well, he'd be likely to develop a big head. He'd be charging me for appearances here... Copping an attitude about the temperature in the crisper drawer... I don't know. I see trouble ahead.


Some Kind of Symbol I May Or May Not Know What It Means.


So often I see people with Chinese or Japanese characters, or swirls or Celtic knots, and I think it's so amazing and impressive how well-versed everyone seems to be in all these other cultures and languages.

I mean, how else could you guarantee that in Japanese it didn't say something like, "I'm an overweight, Japanese-illiterate American. Kick me"?

Now, me, unfortunately, I don't know Japanese or Chinese, or as much as I should about Celtic knots and ancient runes. So, to ensure the symbol I chose actually meant something-- even if I didn't know what it was-- I thought I would tap into the greatest, most extensive symbolic repository I knew--

The Wingdings font I have in Word.

There just seem to be so many options! I'm leaning toward one of those curlicue squigglies, or perhaps the file folder symbol. Either one of them could totally say "me."

What do you think?

Well, I'm anxious to hear your opinions. I suppose if I don't make a decision in time for tomorrow's amusement park outing, I can always save it for next year...

Sure, I'll be the only woman under 50 without a giant Tweety-bird on my boob. But good art takes time.

Hmmm... I wonder how I'd look with a cartoon sheep?....

----------------------------------
Humorbloggers
Humor-blogs

Signs of Zombies and My New Zombie Defense Strategy


Yesterday, Austin, Texas news reported that construction signs along one highway began to flash warnings of a zombie outbreak. They're currently blaming hackers, but honestly... Didn't we all know this was coming sometime?

Could the hacker story not, in fact, be a clever cover-up conspiracy for the truth of the situation? Just to prevent mass panic?

I mean, at the first sign of a few snowflakes, we all run off to the store to stock up on milk and bread. As if dry toast and 2% are the keystones to quality survivalist living...

And at any sort of big sports triumph, fans take to the streets, knock over trashcans and set things on fire. Because celebration requires conflagration.

This is the logic of the masses.

So you can see where news about the zombie hoards coming... well, that would have to be suppressed for a while for the safety of the public, first to save people from themselves.

I mean, they might be undead, but zombies should only have to take so much blame.

Now, you may not know this, but I live just on the cusp of Zombie Central.

No, no, not in Austin. But our Monroeville Mall, right outside Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, is famous-- not only for being a key scene in George A. Romero's Dawn of the Dead...

And an annual Zombie Walk which benefits the Greater Pittsburgh Food Bank (savor the irony)...

But it is also home to The Monroeville Zombies Museum, Gallery and Attraction-- the perfect place for stocking up on all your critical Zombie Defense paraphanalia.

And that is where I purchased the one item that should help me with my latest zombie defense strategy.

My cunning "Monroeville Zombies" t-shirt disguise....


See, I'd previously detailed some preliminary plans for myself to deal with zombie defense, but much of that involved zombie-proofing my home.

This t-shirt, I believe, gives me an added dimension of protection in that, should I run out of supplies like milk and bread, I could possibly make it to the store by showing my solidarity for the zombie cause. By clearly saying, "Hey, I'm one of you." Also, by drooling a bit, walking slowly, and looking vacant...

So basically, how things are before I have my morning coffee.

I'm practicing my shuffle and groan now. And I already have dark circles under my eyes, so that's a plus. And now I have my nifty Monroeville Zombies t-shirt-- so I can be fashionable and possibly not gnawed upon. I might still need to invest in some fake blood or possibly just dip into the Heinz ketchup in my fridge. But I'll deal with that detail when the time comes.

What do you think? Here, I'll show you the general look I'm considering...


Do I stand a chance?

Oh, and because I care about you guys and would hate to think all of my nice readers got eaten by the undead and stuff, you might also want to check out the following Cabbages zombie defense-related posts...
Be careful out there!

--------------------------------------
UPDATE!!- Well, there have been some folks who felt I didn't look zombiefied enough. So my friend Jaffer was kind enough to use his Mad Photoshop Skillz and make me a little more assimilated to the zombie hoards. It's a good look for me...


Sorta like I've just enjoyed a really nice pasta marinara... Or a neighbor.
--------------------------------
Humorbloggers Humor-blogs Bloggerella