His statement made me shudder with fear. It was the same fear that gripped my body at age 8 when I first glimpsed the Creature from the Black Lagoon. When the creature emerged from the inky, black pond on my family’s black and white RCA cabinet television and I imagined it crawling out of our neighbor’s dark-water irrigation pond, staggering into our backyard, scratching a hole in my bedroom wall with its barbed-wire claws and snatching me while I slept. Of course, I had an excuse; I had never seen a horror film before. Even Old Yeller terrified me when the lovable golden retriever was mercy-killed after his encounter with a rabid wolf. OK, so I frightened easily when I was young.
I had no excuse today. 60-year-old men are not supposed …show more content…
Perhaps they’re pining for the fjords,” I invoked Monty Pythonly. He wasn’t amused, largely because he was blithely unaware of Monty Python. “What are you talking about? Look at them, they aren’t even breathing.” I couldn’t get the Pythons’ Dead Collector’s call out of my head: “Bring out yer dead!” It was like a bad Air Supply hook stuck in your brain and nothing, short of a lobotomy, would remove it. Actually, is there a good Air Supply hook? That timeless question didn’t distract me from the “Bring out yer dead!” cry repeating in my ears like an endless sound loop. I tried to change the topic.
“Yes, I think they are breathing, Bill. If they weren’t, they’d be blue.”
“They are blue!” Bill declared. “…..and pasty. I don’t belong here.” Of course he didn’t belong there. No one belonged there, even if they were dead. This was my first introduction to senescent zombies, and it was a shocker. These wheelchair-sentenced bodies were seemingly warehoused in a living mausoleum. I reviled at the thought of these poor souls trapped in zombie-bodies, searching for salvation……or perhaps just a cup of tea. Then I thought I peripherally-glimpsed the Creature from the Black Lagoon ambling down the hallway and I almost fainted. As he got approached, I realized this creature was actually the hulking Julian. Julian was a big teddy bear of a man; 6 foot, 5 inches of cheer and empathy all stuffed into a 280 pound body. His lacquer-framed Clark Kent glasses hid his secret Superman persona. He was the physical therapist charged with snatching the zombies from the void and back into normal life. He had his large hands
I had no excuse today. 60-year-old men are not supposed …show more content…
Perhaps they’re pining for the fjords,” I invoked Monty Pythonly. He wasn’t amused, largely because he was blithely unaware of Monty Python. “What are you talking about? Look at them, they aren’t even breathing.” I couldn’t get the Pythons’ Dead Collector’s call out of my head: “Bring out yer dead!” It was like a bad Air Supply hook stuck in your brain and nothing, short of a lobotomy, would remove it. Actually, is there a good Air Supply hook? That timeless question didn’t distract me from the “Bring out yer dead!” cry repeating in my ears like an endless sound loop. I tried to change the topic.
“Yes, I think they are breathing, Bill. If they weren’t, they’d be blue.”
“They are blue!” Bill declared. “…..and pasty. I don’t belong here.” Of course he didn’t belong there. No one belonged there, even if they were dead. This was my first introduction to senescent zombies, and it was a shocker. These wheelchair-sentenced bodies were seemingly warehoused in a living mausoleum. I reviled at the thought of these poor souls trapped in zombie-bodies, searching for salvation……or perhaps just a cup of tea. Then I thought I peripherally-glimpsed the Creature from the Black Lagoon ambling down the hallway and I almost fainted. As he got approached, I realized this creature was actually the hulking Julian. Julian was a big teddy bear of a man; 6 foot, 5 inches of cheer and empathy all stuffed into a 280 pound body. His lacquer-framed Clark Kent glasses hid his secret Superman persona. He was the physical therapist charged with snatching the zombies from the void and back into normal life. He had his large hands