From the Evansville Courier & Press and the Meade County Messenger
By Jacob Bennett
I should have known this would happen as soon as that zombie bit me.
My head hurts, my nose is stuffed up and I'm coughing like a newbie at the Moontower.
It's tough to be in a good mood when you've felt like a zombie all week. Nothing is fun. I don't feel like playing with my dog, I don't like talking to the wife, I don't feel like bringing news to the good people of Evansville (no offense).
I just want to wander the fields, biting those who come too close.
Even Dr. Kevorkian is powerless when you're undead. I never can figure out the right time to go to the doctor anyway. When I call right away, it turns out to be nothing. When I wait awhile, it turns out that I was actually dead and re-animated.
This time, I waited.
And all week I've been so congested that I sound like Rudolph when Donder makes him wear that dirt ball on his nose.
I'm just sick enough that I don't want to move but just busy enough that I can't call in. Which means that if I accidentally bite my co-workers, they'll all be infected.
I haven't even had the energy to rock. Even when the wife made me go to the Sugarland concert on Sunday, I was so blah that the only thing made it bearable was dirty thoughts of Jennifer Nettles and the drunk girls behind me.
They played that song they did with Bon Jovi, "Who Says You Can't Go Home," to which I mentally replied, "the wife."
Speaking of Bon Jovi, I wonder when you're a doctor and you're driving around in your Porsche, if it's bad form to jam "Bad Medicine."
On days off I like to watch TV shows, but in my condition, even "Who's The Boss?" isn't as funny.
So I tried movies, but "Shaun of the Dead" hits too close to home.
Lumbergh's not gonna like it, but I'm cutting this short. I've got some twitching to do.
And, if I'm lucky, some brains to eat.
It's close to midnight and columnist Jacob Bennett is lurking in the dark.Under the moonlight you see a sight that almost stops your heart. You try to scream but terror takes the sound before you make it at jacobmbennett@hotmail.com. You start to freeze as horror looks you right between the eyes--you're paralyzed.
By Jacob Bennett
I should have known this would happen as soon as that zombie bit me.
My head hurts, my nose is stuffed up and I'm coughing like a newbie at the Moontower.
It's tough to be in a good mood when you've felt like a zombie all week. Nothing is fun. I don't feel like playing with my dog, I don't like talking to the wife, I don't feel like bringing news to the good people of Evansville (no offense).
I just want to wander the fields, biting those who come too close.
Even Dr. Kevorkian is powerless when you're undead. I never can figure out the right time to go to the doctor anyway. When I call right away, it turns out to be nothing. When I wait awhile, it turns out that I was actually dead and re-animated.
This time, I waited.
And all week I've been so congested that I sound like Rudolph when Donder makes him wear that dirt ball on his nose.
I'm just sick enough that I don't want to move but just busy enough that I can't call in. Which means that if I accidentally bite my co-workers, they'll all be infected.
I haven't even had the energy to rock. Even when the wife made me go to the Sugarland concert on Sunday, I was so blah that the only thing made it bearable was dirty thoughts of Jennifer Nettles and the drunk girls behind me.
They played that song they did with Bon Jovi, "Who Says You Can't Go Home," to which I mentally replied, "the wife."
Speaking of Bon Jovi, I wonder when you're a doctor and you're driving around in your Porsche, if it's bad form to jam "Bad Medicine."
On days off I like to watch TV shows, but in my condition, even "Who's The Boss?" isn't as funny.
So I tried movies, but "Shaun of the Dead" hits too close to home.
Lumbergh's not gonna like it, but I'm cutting this short. I've got some twitching to do.
And, if I'm lucky, some brains to eat.
It's close to midnight and columnist Jacob Bennett is lurking in the dark.Under the moonlight you see a sight that almost stops your heart. You try to scream but terror takes the sound before you make it at jacobmbennett@hotmail.com. You start to freeze as horror looks you right between the eyes--you're paralyzed.
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