Worst Mother's Day Ever...

05/11/08

Long story short... Momma's dead. And some other guy is too. Oh yeah, they were zombies.


Figured I'd give a quick summary in case anyone was short on time and was wonderin' why Mother's Day was so bad.

Somethin's going on down here in Alabama lately. I went to visit momma after church on Sunday, and she wasn't in the house, so I go around to the meth shed to see if she's playin' chemistry. Well, of course she was, cuz the disablility checks don't cover all her cigarettes and food and rent and all, so... y'know already.

So I tell her "happy Momma Day" and give her a carton of Camels. Blah blah blah, "thanks", blah blah blah. I wasn't really paying attention. But I could hear all the trees rustlin' behind the shed. Given what happened last week with Jr., I wasn't taking no chances. So I'm haulin' ass back to the Ford to grab the shotgun, when some son-of-a-bitch comes bustin' out of the woods! He's lookin' all wild-eyed and crazy, so I was a little bit stressed out. I'm thinking, "did I reload the 870 after shootin' Jr. and that meth head?". At the same time, I'm grabbin' the gun and finding out. Nope, I didn't reload. But wait! Is that a 3" shell in my pocket or should I be really embarassed? Thank God, it's a shotgun shell... Cuz if my junk was only 3 inches I'd have to brain myself.

I slip the shell up into the receiver and give 'er a pump. What a beautiful sound! I realize now that I don't know where that freak ran off too. Naturally I run into the house, cuz that's where momma is. I gotta save momma! I run through the kitchen listenin' real hard for noise. I bolt up the stairs and I'm just about to call for momma when it hits me... That dude in the tree's was that meth heads brother I done shot last week. Damn, he must be a zombie too. He sure looked like it. I guess. He didn't really look different, but he was actin' weird. He's always dirty, so that wasn't no different. Oh Shit! Momma's in the shed!

I run outside and that dude's limpin' towards the house... and me! Oh man, he's got blood all over his shirt and face and everywhere. He ain't got a gun, so he either brought a knife to a gun fight, or he's a zombie! And I don't see no knife either. I rush up on him and BLAM! square in the face. I know that's momma's blood on him, and I'm extremely agitated. So I did my best to take his head clean off. I got most of it.

I remember what happened to Jr. after he got tore up by one of these things. I'm out of ammo and momma's in the shed all tore up. I run back to the truck and grab my aluminum baseball bat, my personal favorite for collecting late payments.

I lean into the doorway and there's momma, standin' there lookin' at the back of the shed. I don't want her grabbin' at me like them others did, so I sneak up behind her real slow like. She breathing all raspy and slow, just like a zombie, oh poor momma! I can't believe I gotta do this. I rear back with the Louisville and let fly. CRACK! Dropped like a sack of potatoes. I've learned that that's not enough. SMASH SMASH SMASH!!! That's about the worst thing I ever had to do. Well, this one time when Uncle... never mind. It's probly a tie.

I dragged 'em out behind the sheriff's barn and buried 'em next to Jr. and the other dude's brother. Boy, that sheriff is gonna have a surprise if he ever plants a garden back there! Looks like one of his dog's dug up Jr's. body... Hope it give's 'em heartburn.