Me not dead. No.
Me look dead… me give you that. Me probably was dead for a little while, but not dead now. Me undead. That the word me looking for! Me undead, and me very glad about that.
There was TV show called Walking Dead, but it never make sense to me. Are we dead or are we walking? Make up mind, TV director! We can't be both things. It's an oxy… oxy… wait, me know word… it's on tip of black tongue…oxy… ah nope, it gone…. Oh well. Me moron!
Me know me alive and not dead because me still moving. Not very fast, legs kind of stiff, but me not get tired either. Me can walk all day and all night, which is good because dinner always running away. Ha. Ha.
Me also know me alive because me see things. Me see specially well in the dark. Me can hear screams, feel fire, taste brains.
Me like brains. Me like total Cookie Monster for brains. Me like Toucan Sam for brains. Me like Kool-Aid guy for brains. Oh yeah! (But seriously, me once break through wall to get to brains one time. Me not proud of that.)
Me can also smell, which not such a good thing. Me smell something rotting. Me pretty sure it's me. Smell like egg sandwiches all the time. Me bothered by this and what it means.
There are many others like me and they not smell so good either. Some smell worse. Many look terrible, even worse than they smell.
Me actually pretty lucky. Some undead missing arms or legs and have to crawl after dinner. True story, me see head lying on the ground the other day, gnashing its teeth and rolling its eyes! Me put it on a fence so at least it could look around a little and maybe somebody would run into it by mistake and zombie head get food. Also, less likely to trip over it and break bone… that would be bad because zombies no heal.
Me still have most of my body parts, knock on wood. I lose tip of finger to a bullet, couple of toes to axe, but me no complain because me still one of the fastest zombies around. Me also very strong because me used to work out. Before I became zombie, that is.
Me. I think about me a lot. Me once a man named Phillip Something-Something. Me policeman once, if you can believe it. Uniform a little dirty now so not easy to see nametag. Anyway, me answer call one day about crazy homeless guy trying to bite people downtown. Me show up and there is big crowd around man who is grey and sick, yelling something about brains. Turns out man not really homeless or crazy. Man really zombie! I try to arrest man and he bite me on the arm with his teeth, and won't let go until I shoot him.
Man splatters black blood on me, which seem unusual at the time.
Lot of paperwork that day, me can tell you! Then me throw up at dinner. Head hurts and light hurts eyes. Me take two aspirin and go to bed early, and wake up as zombie. Wife very surprised! She hit me with axe, which is how I lose toes. It not hurt much and I forgive her. I only hope she forgive me.
I thought of funny words to say before me eat wife (me big Schwarzenegger fan!), but the words not come out right. Me going to say "Me married you for your brains!" but all that came out was "Braiiiiinns!"
Me a little disappointed. Me not much good at one-liners, usually only think of funny thing to say ten minutes too late. Finally think of good joke and me blow it! Oh well. Me tried.
Me like being a zombie most of the time. Me no get cold or tired. Axe no hurt. Fire scary, but no hurt either. Bullets? As long as they no hit me in head, bullets probably okay. Me take bullet in lung when soldiers come and me think, "Uh-oh, me goose is cooked!" Turns out I don't breathe anymore and lungs useless anyway. Me walk to bottom of lake to see if me drown, but me not drown! Always wanted to walk under water. And fish are delicious.
Only downside of being zombie is that me hungry all the time, and brains very hard to come by now.
Once there were brains as far as you could see, but they like red-listed species around here.
Word gets out that more brains hiding out at the mall, but when me get there the place is packed worse than Black Friday sales! Zombies everywhere! Even if we could get through the gate, there be maybe 10 brains inside for two thousand of us. Not enough to share with so many zombies. So me leave and decide to go somewhere else.
Plus, the smell was very bad. Again, very concerned about that…
Not sure why I write this in police notebook. Not sleeping part of it. Maybe that good thing because me think I would have nightmares. The things me seen. The things me done. Me kind of ashamed of being undead, eating brains, damaging property, slow walking after people until they can't go on anymore…
The walk away from the mall is good. I head north, out of city to the mountains. Why, me ask myself, should I fight all the other zombies for food? Why not go where there are fewer people and fewer zombies, secret places where people would run away to be safe? That what Phillip something-something would do if me not zombie…
What not dead about me is sense of irony. Zombies need to eat people to live, right? But if we bite people, we have to kill them fast otherwise they turn into another zombie! Me call it the "zombie paradox." Imagine if every hamburger you bite turned into a person hungry for another hamburger? Unless you have infinite hamburgers one day you run out of hamburgers to eat. Like crazy zombie pyramid scheme.
Me figure this out early, but other zombies not so smart — only care about getting close enough to people to bite them. Then person gets away and an hour later, great… another hungry zombie mouth to feed!
Me try to explain this to other zombies, on importance of managing finite resource of brains properly. I teach them Malthusian economics. But they only give me blank look and shuffle away.
Me try to talk to zombies, suggest one brain a day catch limit, but they no listen. Some are missing ears and couldn't hear me, but most just tune me out.
Me not surprised. Back when me was Phillip, me always amazed how selfish people could be. World was in big trouble already before zombies came, that for sure!
But me different, me know. For instance, me have a few ideas where to find fresh brains, and me not telling anyone. Me go there myself and eat one last big meal before the end and I will be dead for real.
Because me finally figure it out, why me smell so bad. Me rotting. We all rotting. We not dead, no, but like dead in some ways. Skin already cold. Winter will freeze us into statues if we last that long. Our nerves dead, too, so easy to slam fingers in doors or hurt selves. No blood flow so injuries never heal, only get worse. Pieces are falling off of us. Flies find their way inside.
Me know a few things about the nature of energy, and why me hungry all the time. Me know that there no such thing as perpetural… perpetural…non-stop motion machine, and that one day I must stop like an engine that has run out of gasoline. I will die one day, for real this time. All these zombies will eventually drop to the ground and stop moving. That sad for me.
I wonder if we will die when we wear out, or just keep rotting away until nothing left us except piles of clothes and bones?
And I wonder if people come back then, and when they bury our bones if they will remember us as being human once. Me think not.
Sad thoughts. But road to Whistler is long and me not as fast as used to be. Too much time to think.