A good friend of mine once posed the question: do you think zombies have souls? I laughed in his face and told him I thought him to be an idiot. A few minutes later he was bitten by a zombie and became one himself. This troubled me greatly. Especially since he still owed me twenty bucks.
Despite the fact that my first reaction was to stab the poor bastard in the head, I settled on several short stabs to the torso. Just enough to slow him down and allow me to chain him to a car or what once was a car. Much like my zombified friend, this vehicle had seen better days.
Now I had, for the first time since the outbreak, the opportunity to study a zombie up close. After all, I once was a highly renowned doctor. Granted I was a podiatrist, I was considered an expert in my field. I even wrote a world famous book on the subject: One Foot Good, Two Feet Better.
As far as I could tell, my friend's feet seemed to be in good standing. The use of shoes was wise on his part, especially since he was doing a lot of walking on our journey to what we hoped would be civilization in Arizona. Rumor has it that zombies don't like sand.
The more I paced around my friend, Zombie Stan (that's what I called him), the more I questioned whether Normal Stan was still in there somewhere. Sure, Zombie Stan wanted to rip out my insides and devour me, but he also looked at me with these dead vacant eyes. At that moment I knew, based on my medical experience, that Normal Stan was still hanging on for his life. His soul was trapped inside the zombie's soulless body, thus powering the zombie.
I decided to conduct a series of well thought tests in order to prove that my best friend was still sort of alive and waiting to be released from this zombie captor.
My first bit of evidence included my now famous rock experiment. I gave Zombie Stan a rock and to my surprise he didn't chuck it back at me in order to wound me. He gnawed on it for a moment but then spit it out. The zombie knows the difference between food and nonfood. Normal Stan would have done the exact same thing.
The second experiment was slightly more complicated, especially since I didn't posses the proper materials for an IQ test. Still, I did my best. I asked my friend several questions. Some were about past presidents, others involved math, and many included how certain magic tricks were performed. You see, my friend used to be a novice magician and he never revealed his secrets. This bothered me greatly. To my dismay, he still wouldn't share the art of his magic- which is exactly what Normal Stan's reaction would have been.
In the end, Zombie Stan did fairly well on the test and had a slightly lower IQ than Normal Stan. I attest this to be a result of the stress of being turned into a zombie. It was also difficult to decipher some of Zombie Stan's answers. Grunts and moans leave a lot up for interpretation.
The final experiment would prove to be the most important one of all. If I released Zombie Stan from his restraints, would he try to eat me? There was only one way to find out.
Yes. The answer is a resounding yes. I was bitten quite badly. Once on the forearm with a second attempt at my face. I was stunned more so by my findings than the actual pain that coursed through my body.
The decision made itself. I quite irrationally yet ever so delicately bashed in Zombie Stan's brain. My dear friend collapsed to the ground with a thunderous thud.
With my arm still bleeding, I knew I had little time left. Would my soul travel to the afterlife? Might I turn into a zombie instead? Should I stop worrying so much and cut open my friend's corpse in order to do one last bit of research?
Nay to all! I decided to suck the zombie poison from my wound and spit it out much like a venomous snake bite. My brilliant idea saved my life to a certain degree. The left half of my body is now zombified and craves human flesh, while the right half of my body is the same old lovable, genius I've always been.
It's a struggle to conduct my experiments in my current state. I've eaten a lot more raw meat than I would care to divulge.
Nevertheless, I'm happy. I've met a great deal of wonderful zombies while my half dead side wanders aimlessly without my consent. I suppose Arizona is now out of the question however, I've been trying to remain as positive as I possibly can.
I've even attempted to organize a softball game with my new friends. The only problem is, they aren't very good about getting back to me. Can you believe they don't use cell phones?!
Life has changed dramatically for me over the past several months and it appears abundantly clear to me now that if I had just put my friend out of his misery early on his soul would have been released and I wouldn't be in my current predicament. Then again, it is cool to live both a normal and zombified life. There is never a dull moment.
In time, I hope to release another book. This one tentatively titled: The Many Adventures of Zombie Stan and his Half-Zombie Man-Friend. Unfortunately, part of me refuses to sit still which makes it difficult to write for more than thirty seconds at a time. As one could imagine, a zombie needs to eat a never-ending supply of raw meat and that doesn't give me much opportunity to continue my work.
Sleeping is particularly difficult. I often pass out from exhaustion while my zombie side drags me along in search of more food. Seriously, do zombies ever get full? I think they just kill for sport sometimes. There is no reason to kill everything that you see. I've learned through my experiences that the zombie is a very greedy creature.
Now, I have one last bit of advice to bestow upon you before I go. What I am about to reveal to you is extremely important. Take out a pen and paper if you have one. If you don't, find one. I'm serious. This is the most important thing you need to know during this most unfortunate time that we live in.
If a zombie is attacking you, make sure it is a full zombie and not a part human, part zombie hybrid. I would much prefer to live and not be slaughtered for the actions of one half of my body. Thank you for your kindness.
Oh, and stay away from me. I may look nice with my half good side and my partially pleasant smile, but my zombified self will rip your face off. Sorry in advance if that happens.
Best of luck surviving out there!
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