“You can be so annoying.” She slammed her brush down on the vanity, jars of lotion and power bouncing from the repercussion. “All I wanted to do was spend a quiet evening together, take in a nice comedy. But, no! You have to turn it into an ordeal every time.”
He leaned against the door jamb, watching her tantrum with clear amusement. A patronizing smirk on his face, he casually cleaned under his nails while she vented her spleen.
“It’s just a movie,” he said, finally looking up at her.
“It’s not just a movie,” she said, throwing her brush at him. “I’m sick of all this zombie crap. You can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a zombie!”
Deftly dodging her missile, he shrugged and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets.
“You used to love zombie movies,” he said, making no effort to keep the laughter out of his voice.
“That was before you kept up a running commentary through every one.” She picked up a jar, hefting it in her hand, deciding how hard to throw it. “I am so sick of hearing you say, ‘I know him,’ or ‘that’s not how I would do it’.”
“Hollywood keeps getting it wrong,” he said, eyeing the jar in case she aimed it at his head. “I can’t let the inconsistencies go unchallenged.”
“Fine, write a letter, but shut up during the movie. No one likes a know-it-all,” she sat the jar down. “Besides, you’re the only zombie I love.”
Seeing that she disarmed herself, he came over to hug her. Her left ear dropping off as he ran his decayed fingers through her dirty, tangled hair.
“Why don’t we stay in,” he said, gently kissing her dented forehead. “I know another zombie you love. I’ll make us some drinks, and we can snuggle on the couch.”
“You old undead sweetheart,” she said, patting him on his tattered backside. “Make mine with blood orange juice.”
*My husband is an Air Force brat. When he was younger, his family lived on several U.S. and European bases. He claims, that at one time, he could identify a military plane by the sound of its engines. In college he earned his degree in aerospace engineering (Hey Mom! I did marry a rocket scientist!), and for the whole of his professional career has worked for the Air Force.
His expertise with air craft has created an annoying by-product in that whenever we watch a television show, or movie, that features any sort of military plane, he will comment on how it’s not the right plane for a particular war, or era. He’ll correct the identification, or make some other sort of remark about inaccuracies.
It’s both a running joke with us, and incredibly irritating.
That made me wonder how the undead felt about the recent zombie trend in TV and cinema. Would they do the same thing, comment on how authentically they are portrayed?