I am sitting in the back porch with three doors—one to my right, to my left, and lastly one behind me. All around me are possible implements of destruction including, but not limited to: an “attack” cat, broken weed whacker, bug spray, a highly functional (sometimes too good) alarm system complete with disembodied voice, various My Little horses, RoundUp, bike machine, various glittery rocks and shells, and an ancient broken fan. How would I escape? Oh, I forgot…various sandals at my feet awaiting instruction—at my beck and call.
If these creatures of the undead got past the disembodied voice, they must be smarter than me. So they would be closing in to my right and behind me if they are truly zombies. After sending out my sandal minions, I would employ the pretty rocks hoping to stun them—or at least impress the poor, uncultured ones with the collection. I may offer them some Straw-BerRita..perhaps they are simply thirsty for a malt beverage. I could distract the late comers with a machine that, at first glance, appears that it may help one get somewhere but actually doesn’t.
If all else fails—perhaps I could use a change in my diet…I have been feeling anemic lately.