Guide to Moral Living in Examples: Zombie Diary

I have often wondered what my life would've been like if I hadn't been born a zombie.

I'd grown up watching the regular kids through their porch windows from their darkened backyards, trying my best to be silent but my stomach gurgled ceaselessly. It always made me sad, when that would happen, because then me and my family would shuffle out of the shadows and into the firelight and ruin what looked to be a perfectly good grill.

Sure, I was hungry for brains, but I was hungry for more, sometimes. Those moms and dads telling their kids about school and college and marriages and driving and all the things that the warmbloods pay attention to. It sounded nice, in a non-brain related sort of way. The moms and dads would sometimes drink too much beer and make noises like my mom and dad. Well, until my mom got her head taken off. That was pretty messy. I guess all those brains don't do you any good if you can't keep your head on.

I once fell in a pool and sank to the bottom. It was just before dawn, and nobody noticed. I watched the sun come up. It hurt a little, but the water shielded me from the worst of it. For hours I watched the light filtering down through the swirling water, saw the leaves floating on the surface, observed the turbulence as my dinner thrashed on the surface until I finally wandered into the shallow end.

There's less of us, these days. Maybe I'd be happy if I were them, but now I'm sad. I'm always hungry, hungrier than I've ever been before. My dad's gone now, too. Burned up in a flaming attack. I've been in the woods lately, and I'll only find some scraps every few months. It's getting cold and I can't really move so great.

Boredom, for the first time, has replaced hunger. It's cold and hard to move my limbs, so I'll just sit and watch the birds and the deer until the sun is high enough in the sky to warm me up.

The last good meal I had was these guys in suits. They drove up in their sleek car, down the abandoned lane. I wondered why they were so deep in the woods, and then I saw them take a fourth man out of the trunk, his hands and feet tied with rope, and shoot him in the head. That made me mad. I shuffled towards them. They started shooting at me, but my hands and legs were unfettered and it's a lot harder to shoot something that doesn't want to be shot. To be sure, they put a few bullets in me, but they were nice and warm and felt good in my muscles after the chill of the previous evening. Soon my mouth was full of brains and my belly hung low and pendulous.

The one with the greasy hair tasted bad. I only took a handful of brains from him.

I've seen the first snowflakes, and my vision begins to fix itself. I'm trying to freeze solid in a good spot. I can still see during the winter, but I get very bored, so I try to find an animal path. The deer are fun to watch.

The Moral: if Smoky the Bear wants to save his precious forests, maybe he should start telling his bear friends to eat the zombies.

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