The Talking Dead

October 4, 2013

Look, I don’t know what you people’s problem is. There aren’t that many of you, you know? Deal with it. It’s not my fault you’ve chosen to live holed up in little places. And don’t tell me you’re running out of food. Just look at each other! See, this is where you run into trouble. You stand around arguing and you don’t see we’ve got it all figured out. We work together. Hey, why are you driving away? I don’t get why you’re so obsessed with boarding up windows. That’s not exactly a friendly gesture. When you think about it we’re really just trying to help you. Trust me, if you’d just come along with us you’d find that things are a lot easier. You can drop all that fancy talk about contingency plans and escape routes and “removing the head or destroying the brain”. Please don’t try to drive that truck out. It’s just going to lead to disaster. See? I told you. And now you’re all burned. How do you expect us to eat that? Well, we’ll try.

I think I understand how weird this all must seem to you. It’s hard to remember what things were like in the old days, and, really, what’s the point of trying? We’ve learned that the secret to happiness is to just keep on moving forward, even if it does mean being decapitated by helicopter blades. Don’t look back. Trust me on this. Change is always scary. Let me tell you, I was pretty scared too, in the beginning. I was working in a top-secret military facility. Was I happy? No. I was terrified. And then there was that toxic gas leak. Or maybe it was a virus. Maybe it was a virus from space. Whatever it was I felt like all my worst fears had come true. Then something changed. I asked myself, what have I got to worry about? Then Justin who worked in accounting tripped and fell and I started eating his liver. And you know what? He eventually stopped screaming. It should be obvious that what I’m trying to tell you is if you spend all your time worrying about what’s behind you you’re just choosing to be unhappy.

Oh, cool, a shopping mall. We’ve both come here. See, we’re not that different. We’re all here for the same reason. This place has everything any of us could possibly want. For you it’s food and clothes and shelter and money. What good does money do you at this point, by the way? Never mind. For us it’s, well, you. Quit throwing records! What the hell is wrong with you? Nobody really listens to vinyl anymore. Nobody much listens to music anymore, do they? But if you’re going to throw records at least throw something good, not the Batman soundtrack. See, you don’t like it either. Like I keep telling you we’re not that different. If you prick us do we not bleed? Well, maybe most of us don’t, but we’re still not that different. That’s why we keep playing this silly game. You can build all the fences, all the walls, all the compounds, you can have all the rifles, machine guns, shovels, and flaming Drambuie you want. There’s a little of us in each of you. We’re just looking to return the favor. Would going along with the crowd, being like the rest of us, be such a bad thing? It’s understandable that you’re afraid. You’re afraid you’ll lose something of yourself. Well, that’s the price of civilization, isn’t it? It’s not that bad, really. It’s like waking up from a nightmare and finding you’re on a tranquil island. The days just roll by. So do the nights. We’d like to discuss this with you, preferably somewhere dark and secluded, without a lot of exits. How about this basement? This looks like a good place to meet and talk all this over. Just us, you, and your brains. Your tasty, tasty brains.

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