Two monsters haunt Alex's almost-adolescent mind, zombies and clowns. His fear is so intense that he's enabled me to realize that zombies and clowns are actually versions of the same nightmare creature.Last night I descended into the creepy basement of the Six Month House to retrieve laundry. The stairs are ancient and creak. I could hear Alex behind, in stealth mode, attempting to startle me. I turned tables by quoting some lines from Night of the Living Dead that never fail to chill him ("They're coming to get you, Baaaarb-aaa-raa!"). I observed that behind the mysterious door with a black knob a zombie was likely lurking. "DAD!" he scolded, "NEVER SAY THAT BEFORE BEDTIME."
The door and its odd colored knob did suddenly loom with menace.
"Look," I offered, "I'll open it, and you'll see nothing waits inside." I pulled at the black knob gingerly. The door swung to reveal the toilet that sits inside the closet-like and uselessly placed powder room. "No zombies here unless they are defecating." To lighten the mood, I asked "They do poop, don't they?"
"They have to," Alex observed. "Otherwise what would happen to all that flesh they eat?"
2 comments:
And he said, "stop being ignorant! you're acting like a child!" (I may have muddled the line since I used to constantly quote that interchange myself in 1992 or so)
(obviously the flesh they eat joins with the veritas zombinae naturae)
Ooh, you have a garden's toilet! We do, too. The other half of our household actually finds it useful since his wood shop is in the basement.
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