CosPlay II
We'll never figure out who Patient Zero was, I'm sure. I mean, he (or she) is probably still out there, trundling away. But sometimes I have to wonder if they realized what they were setting into motion that first time.
I remember the first time I heard something was up, it was out in Wisconsin. Madison. Just a little news story about a "Zombie Walk". Probably not the first time, just the first time it was happening near people I know. Popped up in the news, then dropped back out of sight again.
But a few months later there was another one in Philly, another in Houston, another in San Francisco - close to home this time. Bigger gathering. Lasting longer.
Spreading.
Harmless fun, right? A lark, a fun way to spend an afternoon. Or a whole day. Or a whole weekend. A long holiday weekend.
Then I heard about one being planned in our own town. So I went down to watch it in action. Sure enough: hundreds of people milling about aimlessly, growling and moaning inarticulately, bumping into things, in torn up clothing covered in gore makeup.
It actually looked like a lot of fun.
So when an even bigger one was planned for the city, I decided to give it a try. Made up an outfit sort of like a classic Edwardian banker, tore it selectively, worked out some marvelous gore for my throat and eyes, and joined the shuffling mob that morning.
The day passed like a dream. To be truthful, I don't even remember exactly what we did. Lurched. We simply… were. Suddenly the sun was down and I shook myself back into focus. Others were still going, determined to play the role through the night and into the next day. Some were going to tough it out for days, I'd heard. I was tempted to join them, but I had to get back to the family.
Still, I couldn't wait for the next one. The sheer nirvana of the experience had infected me.
The following weekend, again, this time in the East Bay. And I took the kids, though my wife stayed home with a disapproving expression. They were adorable in matching big sister-little sister clothing and gore-stained chins. When night fell, my wife picked the girls up to go home, but I stayed out late. All night. Doing… whatever. Thinking about everything and nothing at the same time. Shuffling.
I started a lunch time group at work, and convinced the monthly book club that we should lurch instead of talk literature. Just a few more hours, here and there. Never enough. Had to have more. Had to have others joining in. Eventually, my wife gave in, too, and tried one out up in Napa.
She loved it, as I knew she would. As I knew anyone who tried it would.
And then, of course, it went really viral. Suddenly, groups were everywhere, events were all the time… and the truly serious lurchers decided to simply never get back out of character. Once you master the state of mind (or really, the state of un-mind) you can do all the things you used to just fine without even having conscious awareness of it. At home, at work, driving in the car… I started trying it, too, and it's great.
So, as you are no doubt aware, there are more and more of us doing it every day. Dropping into the "lurch" and just never coming back out if we can help it. It's so much more peaceful and sane a place to be, just shuffling through everything without even realizing it. It's a terrible, confused world out there, full of greed and violence. Why would anyone want to comprehend it?
I'm only breaking out of character right now to assuage the fears you apparently expressed to HR yesterday. This is just who I am, now. This is who we are. The undead, a mindless shambling anonymous gore-soaked horde.
Not because we have to be. Just because we really, really want to be.
Now, please hold still while I finish getting the rest of the brain out of your skull.
------
For consideration: way less disgusting than those furries
I remember the first time I heard something was up, it was out in Wisconsin. Madison. Just a little news story about a "Zombie Walk". Probably not the first time, just the first time it was happening near people I know. Popped up in the news, then dropped back out of sight again.
But a few months later there was another one in Philly, another in Houston, another in San Francisco - close to home this time. Bigger gathering. Lasting longer.
Spreading.
Harmless fun, right? A lark, a fun way to spend an afternoon. Or a whole day. Or a whole weekend. A long holiday weekend.
Then I heard about one being planned in our own town. So I went down to watch it in action. Sure enough: hundreds of people milling about aimlessly, growling and moaning inarticulately, bumping into things, in torn up clothing covered in gore makeup.
It actually looked like a lot of fun.
So when an even bigger one was planned for the city, I decided to give it a try. Made up an outfit sort of like a classic Edwardian banker, tore it selectively, worked out some marvelous gore for my throat and eyes, and joined the shuffling mob that morning.
The day passed like a dream. To be truthful, I don't even remember exactly what we did. Lurched. We simply… were. Suddenly the sun was down and I shook myself back into focus. Others were still going, determined to play the role through the night and into the next day. Some were going to tough it out for days, I'd heard. I was tempted to join them, but I had to get back to the family.
Still, I couldn't wait for the next one. The sheer nirvana of the experience had infected me.
The following weekend, again, this time in the East Bay. And I took the kids, though my wife stayed home with a disapproving expression. They were adorable in matching big sister-little sister clothing and gore-stained chins. When night fell, my wife picked the girls up to go home, but I stayed out late. All night. Doing… whatever. Thinking about everything and nothing at the same time. Shuffling.
I started a lunch time group at work, and convinced the monthly book club that we should lurch instead of talk literature. Just a few more hours, here and there. Never enough. Had to have more. Had to have others joining in. Eventually, my wife gave in, too, and tried one out up in Napa.
She loved it, as I knew she would. As I knew anyone who tried it would.
And then, of course, it went really viral. Suddenly, groups were everywhere, events were all the time… and the truly serious lurchers decided to simply never get back out of character. Once you master the state of mind (or really, the state of un-mind) you can do all the things you used to just fine without even having conscious awareness of it. At home, at work, driving in the car… I started trying it, too, and it's great.
So, as you are no doubt aware, there are more and more of us doing it every day. Dropping into the "lurch" and just never coming back out if we can help it. It's so much more peaceful and sane a place to be, just shuffling through everything without even realizing it. It's a terrible, confused world out there, full of greed and violence. Why would anyone want to comprehend it?
I'm only breaking out of character right now to assuage the fears you apparently expressed to HR yesterday. This is just who I am, now. This is who we are. The undead, a mindless shambling anonymous gore-soaked horde.
Not because we have to be. Just because we really, really want to be.
Now, please hold still while I finish getting the rest of the brain out of your skull.
------
For consideration: way less disgusting than those furries