Zombie, MN Read online

  Our last stop of the night was Anderson’s Feed Store. Gail explained that it’s a feed store by day, but in the evening they push the bags of fertilizer and chicken chow off to the side to make a dance floor. Loud music and neon lights were clear indicators that this was the place in town to square dance and polka. We watched the activity from the shadows.

  In the distance, I heard a loud rumble. An older style motorcycle pulled up in front of the store and a skinny man in leather hopped off. He didn’t take his helmet off, but he flipped open the visor. It was Crazy Kyle Cokely. He was head-butting and greeting and patting the backs of the peanut heads that were making their way into the establishment. He was dancing around and joking with several of the peanut heads when I stepped out of the shadows, hoping to warn him.

  Crazy turned and saw me. “Hey Bippy, you come out to dance too?” I tried making several hand and tail gestures to get him to realize the danger he was in but to no avail. He continued hopping around, obviously enjoying himself and his company. Gail said to me, “Let's go Bippy. That's one of them practical zombies. He's just a step away from having his brains liquefied.” I followed Gail, realizing that what he was saying was quite true.

  1:00 ante meridiem

  I bid Gail good night. Before he left we made plans to meet again for another night surveillance. Gail thought it would be a good idea to go to the hospital next. I made my way quickly inside to get some shut eye just in case the guy had some funny ideas about jogging again.

  Day 14: Night Shift

  10:45 post meridiem

  The rain finally stopped. Because we’ve had three days of constant downpour, Gail has rescheduled our trip to the hospital three times.

  Today was sunny, hot and muggy, so I expected that Gail would be outside waiting for me for our evening excursion, which he was.

  10:50 post meridiem

  We made our way into the neighbor's yard again, and after trampling on the flowers that we missed the previous time, we walked until we came to the nearest cross street. We turned right and followed it all the way down for about two miles, until we saw the lights of the small hospital in the distance. Gail wasn't a talkative guy, which suited me just fine as I was in a bad mood because my fur was frizzy from all the humidity in the air.

  11:45 post meridiem

  Gail found a nice dark spot to observe from. The hospital was rather small, and appeared to look more like a clinic to me, especially in comparison to the Chicago-sized hospitals that I was more accustomed to. Gail assured me that it was indeed a hospital and pointed out a female peanut head in a nurse's uniform holding a clip board who had just taken up her position near the entry doors.

  11:55 post meridiem

  Two black SUV's pulled up near the front of the hospital and several people in suits and mirrored sunglasses jumped out of the vehicles. I recognized one of the suits from the church parking lot. He kept close to a man in scrubs, who had also come out from one of the SUV's.

  “One of the doctors,” Gail explained. “I'm sure he's not a peanut head. I think he works for the same people the agents do.”

  12:00 ante meridiem

  People started coming out of the woodwork, queuing up for their chance to go inside. Everyone was laughing and high fiving each other. They looked really excited.

  12:05 ante meridiem

  I heard a motorcycle roaring in the distance and watched as it pulled up. I immediately recognized Crazy Kyle and saw that he had a passenger with him. He stopped in front of the hospital and as his passenger got off, Crazy lifted his helmet visor and said, “Good luck man. I'll see you at the feed store tomorrow night.” His friend gave a quick nod and went to queue up. Crazy rode off into the night.

  Gail shook his head, “Brain liquefaction can be a messy business. Sometimes it takes hours. Those people will be in line for quite a while, eh.”

  Another peanut headed nurse went through the line and handed out cookies and juice. “It distracts them while they wait,” Gail informed.

  A few more SUV's pulled up and more black suits wearing dark mirrored glasses popped out. They milled about with the practical zombies, apparently keeping watch over them to make sure they didn’t change their minds about becoming real zombies.

  12:15 ante meridiem

  Gail took me out back where we watched a newly zombified peanut head emerge from the back of the hospital building. I recognized the particular chap from the line; he had been a rather animated and happy fellow who had eaten a plateful of cookies and drank several cups of juice.

  The figure that emerged from the procedure was neither animated nor happy. He had a blank expression on his face, and I watched as he ran into the wall of the hospital building over and over. One of the suits had to redirect him to the front of the hospital, where he was then ushered into a SUV which drove off into the night.

  “Takes them a while to get some basic function back,” Gail said. “By the end of the week, he might be able to walk inside the building instead of smashing into it for his post-op check.”

  I gulped loudly, “Might?”

  “Don't worry, the suits are always around to set them right, eh.”

  Gail turned and walked back towards the road. “You coming Frenchman? There's nothing more to see. It will be like this until morning, and I got me some grubs to catch, eh.”

  Day 16: Everyone Loves a Parade

  10:08 ante meridiem

  The girl has just come back from the local coffee shop. She's been going there in the mornings to read Modern Social Work Digest. It’s her favorite magazine, especially since they published her latest research article titled, Emotions: Friend or Foe?

  The girl loves coffee shops because not only does she get to read her social work drivel uninterrupted, she also gets to partake in one of her other hobbies, knitting dog sweaters.

  Now please don't get me wrong. Being from Chicago, I am very well aware of the importance of a fashionable, warm sweater. Chicago isn't called the Windy City for nothing. I have no objections to looking good while staying warm. The problem with the girl's sweaters are that they are, to put it mildly, hideous. Not only does she make sweaters using the world's scratchiest wool, she also knits a thousand and one bobbles on each one, which makes me look like I'm about to nurse a thousand baby sheep.

  She doesn't stop at just sweaters though. There are hats, scarves, mittens, and terror upon terror, tail warmers. I can't even begin to explain what those are. The only thing I can tell you is that it is hard to properly conduct one's business when wearing one.

  The excited look in the girl's eyes when she came back from the coffee shop told me one thing; she was getting ready to knit me another one of her monstrosities. I can't tell you how surprised (and pleased) I was when I found out the reason for excitement wasn't another sweater, but rather, a parade. Apparently the town is having a parade of some sorts this afternoon. When the guy asked what the parade was for the girl just shrugged. “No one at the coffee shop seemed to know but they said I should go anyway.”

  1:00 post meridiem

  The guy and girl leashed me up and grabbed their camping chairs. The parade was going to go down Main street, which was just on the other side of the block. All we had to do was walk over and plop our chairs down to watch all the festivities. The girl wanted the guy to carry over my playpen just in case I got “emotional” but the guy just tousled my hair and said, “He's almost a real dog, he doesn't need it today.” I was tempted to drool over his expensive leather sandals but chose not to because I knew that would be a sure ticket into the playpen.

  1:05 post meridiem

  We walked towards Main Street, cutting through the parking lot of a local craft store. On the way, we passed one of our neighbors, an older fellow who was in the process of mowing his lawn.

  The man kept mowing round and round, in the same circular path, while not touching the rest of the grass, which was about knee high. By all appearances, it looked like he had mowed the same spot for some time.
Do you think the guy and girl even noticed? No! All the guy did was wave and say, “We'll see you at the parade.”

  1:07 post meridiem

  The guy told the girl I needed to sit on the ground. I honestly thought one of the chairs was for me. I assumed the guy was going to stand.

  1:08 post meridiem

  The girl looks worried. Good. Because I have no plans to sit on the ground.

  1:09 post meridiem

  The girl was apparently not worried enough to give up her chair for me.

  1:10 post meridiem

  I feel a nervous spell coming on. The girl is watching me carefully. I hope she sees the tear beginning to form in the corner of my eye.

  1:12 post meridiem

  Not my first choice but not my last either. I am sitting in the guy's lap. I wish it wasn't so hot; his legs are sweaty.

  1:20 post meridiem

  The first float went by, as did the second, third, fourth, and fifth one. That was all. No more floats. They were all pink, and looked like they were made out of polystyrene foam.

  Each float held about a dozen peanut heads, all of them waving mindlessly to the peanut heads that lined the street, who waved mindlessly back. At the rear of the parade, a black SUV trailed, signaling an end to the festivities. Men in suits, who were walking near the SUV, picked up the people who had fallen off the floats and stood them upright. They also prodded the spectators to move along. Everyone dutifully picked up their chairs and headed back to their homes. The guy looked at the girl and said, “That was an interesting parade. I can't say I've ever seen one quite like it.” The girl nodded, “What a wonderful way to soak up Minnesota culture.”

  I had just found a comfortable (and dry) spot on the guy's bony legs and now I was being forced off. Humph! Was I ever mad!

  1:23 post meridiem

  We walked by the old man who was still mowing his yard. He had worked up quite a sweat and the patch he had been mowing was mostly dirt, with only a blade or two of grass left.

  Day 17: Dinner

  11:02 ante meridiem

  Rumor has it that the guy and the girl are hosting a “Summer Barbecue” this evening and are planning on inviting E.M. and her grandson. Although my invitation has not yet made its appearance, I know that it will, so I have made plans to attend. Not only will it be the most advantageous time to keep and eye on the peanut heads, I will also have ample time and opportunity to sample some barbecued t-bone steak.

  5:30 post meridiem

  Imagine my great surprise when my invitation did not arrive. Also added to that insult, injury; there was not to be any t-bone but instead, cow brain steak.

  Upset you ask? Upset? Absolutely not! At least I'm eating steak, at least, steak of some sort. But please forgive my quick departure, as I must now go and take a probiotic. Although I am only supposed to take two drops in my water, I believe I will have to make some slight adjustments and go up to the next highest dosage (for therapeutic benefits of course).

  5:45 post meridiem

  The peanut heads are here. E.M. brought a head of iceberg lettuce and her grandson Robbie brought over one tomato and a fork.

  The girl ever so graciously took their “generous offerings” and placed them on the kitchen counter. “A nice cool salad with dinner will be lovely, and we can always use extra silverware.” The guests maintained their flat expression and didn't say a word.

  The guy came in from grilling, carrying five very large, gelatinous steaks. “Dinner's ready!”

  E.M. and Robbie, who had already taken their seats in the dining room, became very animated at the sight of the smoking hot brains. The guy and girl placed the steaks on the table and went into the kitchen to grab all the steak-eating accouterments: steak sauce, salt, pepper, etc.

  What happened next will take some careful and thoughtful explanation. You see, I have watched enough judge shows to confidently say that I am highly qualified to render decisions on the most difficult of matters. Case in point.

  While the guy and girl were in the kitchen, E.M. and Robbie could not control themselves in the presence of all those brains. They helped themselves to all the steaks, or should I more accurately say, they pushed their faces into the still sizzling brains and devoured everything. While E.M. licked off the serving plate, Robbie gnawed on the table cloth were some of the brain fat had dripped.

  I was shocked, to say the least, that our dinner had just disappeared, right in front of my eyes. Our dinner guests had not only eaten the main course, they did so without even using their hands.

  I did the only thing I could. I sprung into action. I needed to make the guy and girl aware of what had just happened so I jumped up on the kitchen table and pointed.

  During one of my previous internet researches, I learned that some canines have the ability to point. These types of dogs are highly valued in hunting circles and have certain credentials behind their breed.

  Here was a perfect instance where I needed to “point” out what had just happened, so that's what I did. I used my front paw and extended it as far as it would go. I also tried to use my tail, but that didn't work as well as I imagined it would.

  When the guy and the girl came back into the kitchen, the girl dropped the steak sauce on the floor and the guy's chef hat fell off his head. Despite their reluctance and seeming inability to move, I kept pointing. Surely it was obvious what had happened.

  Instead of the guy taking the appropriate action, which in my opinion would have involved throwing out the peanut heads, he grabbed me instead, and plopped me considerably harder than usual into my playpen, which sat nearby in the living room.

  He went back into the kitchen and profusely apologized to E.M. and Robbie. The girl made quick business of preparing the iceberg salad, even going as far as putting some of my expensive French cheese in it. They had that for dinner. The peanut heads didn't touch any of the green stuff though they did pick out and eat all of the cheese.

  Humph! The guy and girl had declared me guilty. What horrible judges they would have made. If I had been the one judging, I would have opened the trial by watching for the reactions of both the plaintiffs (E.M. and Robbie) and the defendant (Bippy). A good judge knows that the guilty will always look the part.

  The peanut heads, who were blank faced, did not easily exhibit their guilt. I would have started my examination by walking a close, tight circuit around them, taking care to smell them. What if the smell was diluted by packing peanut chemicals? That would have been perfectly fine. They wouldn't throw me off their trail that easy. My examination would have only intensified.

  I would sneak up behind them in order to startle them, thus hoping to create a situation which would cause another ravenous dash for cow brain steaks. If they eluded my attempts? I would pretend to give up and turn my back on them, almost making it appear that a mistrial would be in order. But that's when I would turn, ever so quickly and make my declaration, “Guilty!!!” Before the guy's lip could twitch and girl could protest, I would smugly make my way up the stairs. But as it stood now, I would not get a chance to do that.

  10:30 post meridiem

  Potty break. Bedtime in my playpen. Pill wrapped in cheese.

  11:45 post meridiem

  At first I thought it was the effects of the pill, but after having blinked my eyes several times, I am actually seeing peanut heads above my playpen. I am trying to bark but I feel sleepy. The guy must have given me the slip and gave me two pills instead of one. Must try to bark. Can't...too tired. Point. I will point. That's not working either. Can. Only. Write. Mais non! Not my brain! It's my gift to the world!

  11:46 post meridiem

  I hear a loud “Caw, caw.” It sounds as if it is coming from inside. The guy is running down wearing his stocking cap and carrying a tennis racket. He stops halfway down having realized it is E.M., Robbie, and the two other peanut head ladies that came over before for lunch.

  The girl runs down too, scared out of her mind and she runs into the guy. She looks e
mbarrassed because of the rollers in her hair and night cream on her face, not to mention she is wearing a rather unflattering night gown. She runs back upstairs and comes back down looking more presentable.

  Instead of the guy and girl asking what in the world the peanut heads are doing in our house, they are ushering them into the kitchen and making them some hot chocolate.

  I must remember to thank Carl Crow for sounding the alarm. Who knows what would have happened if he hadn't?

  Day 18: Therapy

  07:30 ante meridiem

  The girl has just left for the coffee shop. She took her laptop, which means that she will be gone for a good part of the morning.

  07:45

  As soon as the girl had both feet out the door, the guy began my psychological evaluation. Since I was the only patient on the guy's schedule, I was afraid that this was going to be a long day.

  07:50 ante meridiem

  The guy flipped through the PSM V while I snoozed on and off. After the late night visit, I had trouble going to sleep because I was worried about keeping my brains and keeping Jody safe from another unwanted visit.

  At first, the guy tried to use the informal approach to evaluate me. I sat next to him on the couch downstairs but because that piece furniture was so incredibly comfy, I ended up falling asleep. The guy had to then take a more formal approach I had to go upstairs and sit in the leather chair. It smelled pickly and reminded me of Peepaw, which I found comforting in an odd sort of way.

  08:30 ante meridiem

  The guy has diagnosed me as anxious ambivalent. Since he is of the Nouveau Freudian school, I am hesitant to accept his diagnosis.

  I'm sure that the girl, who is of the Positive Skinnerian Behavioral school, would most likely disagree as well. I have come to see, over the years, that Positive Skinnerian is the school of thought that I favor the most. That is because to me, Positive Skinnerian equals Skinnerian Plus, as it yields many tasty morsels to help reinforce good behavior.