My Crazy #1

Fear of zombies is my crazy.  I have tried desperately to get rid of this crazy, but because I insist on feeding the crazy with television shows like The Walking Dead, it’s impossible to cure the crazy.

I love The Walking Dead.  What a gorgeous study of human nature and how it doesn’t change when faced with a life-threatening crisis such as the zombie apocalypse. Assholes will still be assholes, there are still leaders and followers, sex/food/water still drive humans to steal, lie, envy, covet, etc. There are moments of “no man is an island”/kumbaya/we’re stronger together…but really, it’s a fucking soap opera.

Yesterday, I watched 7 1/2 hours of zombie television.  I don’t know why I did that to myself.  It’s another argument that this show is that good.  They got a straight up, pee-herself-scared-of-zombies-sissy to watch a marathon of their show…and still want more.

The first 30 minutes of the show stressed me out.  They break down on the highway and a massive herd of zombies are walking down the road.   They hide under cars and dead bodies, and damn. It was a slowly built, tension filled, gross scene that I couldn’t take my eyes off of.

After the show, I had to read some rubbish romance novel to get the zombies out of my head.  My crazy was waiting behind the door to tackle me.  I could feel it there.  I read about a strong viral lord ripping the bodice off of some “no means yes”, voluptuous virgin who can’t stop staring at her lord’s manhood….until a zombie burst in and started eating them.

I decided to watch some comedy on TV.  That finally put me to sleep.  I turned off the television and  dreamt a fucked up dream where a creepy old man was asking me if the kids in the park were fornicating while his creepier wife in a house-dress was pointing a shotgun at me.  Yeah, real nice dream.

The alarm clock went off and I woke up thinking, loud noises attract them.  I instantly looked out the window to see if there were any zombies roaming the street.  I shit you not.  I did this.  I then told myself to ignore the crazy and that there were no zombies.  If another person were there, they would have had me committed.

I went into the kitchen, turned on the light, and thought…the light attracts them.  I called myself things way meaner than idiot.

I was all right the rest of the morning.  I forgot about the zombies while trying to figure out what to wear to work. It was good to get my mind off of how stupid I was being.  I got dressed without being nuts.  I was free of my crazy.

But I had to get to my car in the dark.  My crazy bitch-slapped me when I wasn’t looking and I ran to my car like I had a swarm of bees chasing me.  Seriously.  If my neighbors were looking out their windows, they would have either laughed or called the cops.  After I got the car started and doors locked, I started to laugh.  Really hysterical laughter. Who wouldn’t?  I’m a freaking dumbass who just ran down her stairs and to her car like a lunatic.

Needless to say, there were no zombies.  I’m ashamed to admit that I lost my mind for a few hours this morning.  My crazy was hungry and I fed that bitch with guts and brains.  I’m okay now, but really…I’m just stupid.

Will I continue to watch The Walking Dead?  Hell yes, just not at night.  Never again.  And not a marathon…never never never again will I feed my crazy like that.

But just in case…remember to destroy the brain.