…”We were living in this sprawling country farmhouse and had invited the neighbors and basically everyone we knew who were still alive for a potluck.”
This nightmare took place after the zombie apocalypse had struck just about everywhere. We were living in this sprawling country farmhouse and had invited the neighbors and basically everyone we knew who were still alive for a potluck. (My conscious mind is rationalizing here that since the electricity had stopped we all had a lot of food spoiling in freezers that had to be used up.) Anyway it was getting dark and the guests were largely rather late. My wife started asking me about certain things that I didn’t think about, like we’d planned to feed everyone in the backyard but of course without electricity we couldn’t see anything. Not to mention the possible trouble if someone made yummy noises at the potluck and were mistaken for a zombie… We didn’t know if zombies would be attracted if we lit a big bonfire. But we got into the worst fight when she asked me about how much ammo we had for the guns, as if I could just run out to the store and pick up some more if we were running low. Well, we were running low. We panicked, argued a bit more and then decided that it must be possible to kill a zombie by hitting it really, really hard over the head. It became my job to come up with enough big heavy sticks so that our guests could each carry one around… while trying to balance a plate full of food in the other hand and eat at the same time.
Time crept on. We stopped fighting. The food got cold. No one showed up. Everything felt very silent and icy as that deep country dark fell around us.