Theatrical Muse #307. Treat
Days didn't matter so much when no one else was around to celebrate them. They made up their own holidays. Jesus-Christ-I-Can't-Believe-It-Was-That-Close day. Hey-We-Grew-Potatoes day. Some of them they kept. Birthdays. Christmas.
Halloween.
The candy thing was mostly an American thing. But since there were two Americans they declared they made a majority and that meant they were celebrating in American fashion. Plus, they were on American soil. Plus, they could use a real holiday. There was no village or town or city to go trick or treating in, and even if most of the zombies were dead or dying of starvation by now -- or having ripped each other to shreds -- it wasn't safe to go out and look. Not by themselves. Not if they got caught away from their resources. Their supplies. They'd made it good here, and they'd somehow survived this far.
So, Halloween. With no houses to go by, no doors to knock on, they knocked on each other's doors. They made a trip to the town to find what candy hadn't spoiled, back to back to back, guns at their sides, then crept back to the house like naughty children and giggled at themselves with only a tinge of hysteria. It was the first time they had been out so far since the apocalypse happened. Somehow, spending Halloween with symbols of the dead didn't seem right.
They went round and round for treats, instead. Knocking on doors and holding out pillowcases for candy and trading pieces back and forth, hiding the best pieces behind each other's backs. They took the day to gorge themselves on candy and be ridiculous, and went to bed overstuffed and smiling.
Halloween.
The candy thing was mostly an American thing. But since there were two Americans they declared they made a majority and that meant they were celebrating in American fashion. Plus, they were on American soil. Plus, they could use a real holiday. There was no village or town or city to go trick or treating in, and even if most of the zombies were dead or dying of starvation by now -- or having ripped each other to shreds -- it wasn't safe to go out and look. Not by themselves. Not if they got caught away from their resources. Their supplies. They'd made it good here, and they'd somehow survived this far.
So, Halloween. With no houses to go by, no doors to knock on, they knocked on each other's doors. They made a trip to the town to find what candy hadn't spoiled, back to back to back, guns at their sides, then crept back to the house like naughty children and giggled at themselves with only a tinge of hysteria. It was the first time they had been out so far since the apocalypse happened. Somehow, spending Halloween with symbols of the dead didn't seem right.
They went round and round for treats, instead. Knocking on doors and holding out pillowcases for candy and trading pieces back and forth, hiding the best pieces behind each other's backs. They took the day to gorge themselves on candy and be ridiculous, and went to bed overstuffed and smiling.