Last night, while I was innocently working on my Animal Behavior, I found myself overcome with a weariness. And, pondering the complex competition of eagles and crows for salmon, I was nearly napping. Yet, suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
So I opened it.No bold raven waited for me beyond that threshold, but my eyes found something more terrifying and inexplicable looming there. My blockmates, their hair caked with mud and their clothes literally soiled, stood grinning at me. It was 12:56 AM when they knocked at the door.
"You're not coming in here like that." Not an ultimatum, a decree.
They had been outside. On a normal day, I would classify that as surprising. Today, they had been inspired to play flag football. At night. After a day of rain. This sort of activity defies classification. The closest word in my thoughts right now is rabid, but that doesn't even come within an epsilon of my gut reaction.I think this final picture sums up my fear. It was not the dirt that terrified me but the fear of something else: contamination. For all I know, those mud-covered creatures may be carriers of that zombie virus I keep hearing about. But then again, I've got my "zombie plan" all figured out.
4 comments:
Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven." Did you hear that I memorized it for Halloween? Try me again, little man.
Ah ha! You missed the second, less-obvious, quote! Try "zombie plan" on for size.
XKCD? I knew it sounded familiar.
You haven't updated your blog in a while. LAME!
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