I am not a good storyteller. Although I do my best, it’s not easy for me to weave words into a set of beginnings, middles, and ends that envelop and transform readers. The problem with my limited capability is that after years and years of addiction work, I am certain that zombies, demons, and ghosts are as real as my fingers bouncing off the keyboard. And I want people to know that they’re quite real and to do that, I suppose I have to tell zombie, demons, and ghost stories.
Another admission: I don’t know much about zombies. I mean, I know that I shouldn’t let a zombie bite me because then I’ll become one too. And I also know that the only way to kill a zombie is to crush its skull. That’s about all I know. I don’t know how zombies came to be. Really. I suppose I could research the whole zombie movement and learn about Zombie Ground Zero (ZGZ). I’m pretty sure, though, that there’s as many theories and stories about ZGZ as there is about our own creation. I mean, really, does anyone really know the absolute truth about humanity’s ground zero? People of faith of any kind would say that they’re version of God created us all, but then other persuasions of faith would deny those ground zero stories. So, then, I don’t really see a point in learning about ZGZ if I’m just going to run into brick walls. Still, I know a zombie when I see a zombie and from what I’ve seen, alcohol is probably at the heart of ZGZ.
The way I see it, whiskey or tequila or vodka gave birth to the very first zombie. There were probably a dozen or so regular humans sitting in a room talking shit to each other. But then there was one guy, and it probably had to be a guy because the zombies I’ve seen strike me as male, who drank his whiskey or tequila or vodka (or maybe all three) to the point that he just never stopped and then began wondering the Earth looking for more. In time, his buddies stayed further and further away from him. Any semblance of love split as quickly as a jackrabbit darting out of a Chamisa. Before long, the first zombie had no place to sleep, so he slept wherever he fell. He stopped bathing long before everyone bounced out of his world. All that mattered to the first zombie was getting his whiskey or tequila or vodka.
Now, I suspect that ZGZ didn’t involve biting, at least not biting that involved teeth. The zombies I’ve seen don’t have a lot of teeth with which the could bite. But I’ll leave the biting stuff of the story to experts who really know what happened at ZGZ. I’ll also leave the brain bashing to them because I just think that zombies ever really die.
