Day of the Living Dead
Ever have one of those mornings? The ones where your kid kicks your lower back all night and wakes you up every 20 minutes? When the alarm surprises you? When you actually witness the sun rise? If you haven’t, screw you. I am a zombie today.
I’m beside myself with excitement not only because it is almost October, but because one of my favorite films of all time is coming to a theatre near me; Night of the Living Dead. From the coterie Theatre website:
“Flesh eating zombies menace our audience and terrorize seven people trapped in an isolated farmhouse. “This ain’t no Sunday School picnic!” Featuring live music from a guitar-wielding zombie, this critically acclaimed hit returns!”
We are going next Friday with some really cool friends. It’s so random how small things interact with a thought pattern. I’m currently a zombie. Barbara, who we bumped into this past weekend let me into the office because I forgot the pass-code. She says to me:
“…your wife is beautiful, she really is…”
Like I’m some schlub that people are shocked to meet my wife and see she is attractive. It happened over the weekend as well:
“…Andrew, your wife is hot. I mean, wow. Score for you…”
Again, do I have warts? Am I a hulking disfigured grotesque groaning zombie…wait, that’s right, I am. My response is usually the same:
“…yes, she is…I’m a lucky man…she keeps getting better as she gets older…thank you, all her doing in spite of me…”
So our friends who are going with us to see, dare I say, the highlight of my entertainment fueled year have never SEEN the original movie. That will happen this weekend. I feel like I’m living some really wacked out precursor to the event. Like I’m preparing myself with subtle highlights prior to the event. Barbara, no sleep, movie prep, scent of rotting human flesh… wait, why is there the scent of rotting human flesh… who’s there? How did you get in here? Why are you looking at me like that?!?!
