Zombie Housing Discrimination

Sherry is my best friend. She works, yet finds the time to communicate with my crazy ass through texts throughout the day. If my psychologist ever read through some of our conversations I might be back in a padded room. Here's an example of one conversation following her stomach virus:

Me: How you feeling?
Me: (an hour later with no response) Has the zombie virus taken hold?
Sherry: I finally ate after a 24 hour fast.
Me: Was it human flesh? Tell me it wasn't human flesh. I'd hate to have to shoot you.
Sherry: ... ... ... No ... ... ...

So I did what any normal person would do to test her zombie status. I took a picture of my butt (it's a large and meaty butt and also where I store the remnants of my brain) and sent it to her.

Me: Does this look tasty to you?
Sherry: That's not fair!
Me: You're thinking of biting it!
Me: Are you a zombie!? Are you?
Sherry: *Stops nibbling ass* Huh? No! You had a little...something...here and I was getting it off...I was helping!
Me: Now I'm infected dammit. I thought I had at least til 2012.
Me: You couldn't let me get my house with a pool? Enjoy it just for a year?
Sherry: Just infect your neighbors. Zombie Pool Party!
Me: They're not gonna let a zombie buy a house!
Me: My credit sucks. And you think I won't have eaten the kids and at least infected Nick by then?
Me: Hell I'm half ready to chomp Amy right now. (Amy is my 17 month old daughter.)
Sherry: The housing market sucks. Some places are trying to bring back variable loans again. They'll sell to a zombie.
Me: We're talking suburbia. They'd barely sell to you. They're not gonna sell to a zombie. (At this point I'll clarify Sherry is a black, bisexual, single mother.)
Sherry: ...Hmmm, has your skin changed color yet? Get the house before it changes. Don't want any burning... What do they burn for zombies?


By this time hours have gone by. I've already picked up Alex (my 6 year old son) from school and we're over my friend Joan's house so our kids can play. I decide to get her into the conversation. Joan, like most people who I consider true friends, is well aware I'm pretty crazy. But without any context I start asking her what she thinks people would burn on the front lawn of a family of zombies. She doesn't get it. So I explain that racists burn crosses on the lawns when black families move in. What would zombie haters burn on the lawn if my zombie family were to move into suburbia? She starts laughing at me and reminds me again that I'm nuts. But she plays along and begins naming random items. So...who's really crazy here? Me? Or the people who humor my madness? Once Joan settles on an answer I'm back to the texting.

Me: My friend Joan says pigs for some reason.
Me: I don't think she gets it.
Me: I say...tombstones?
Me: Winding sheets?
Me: But if I infect Nick it's all over. He's ALREADY PR. (Puerto Rican in case anyone doesn't get that.) PR AND a zombie is a little much. Then what if they start asking where the kids went?
Sherry: They don't want your half breed kids anyway. PR/White/Zombie (if they survived). All the bullying! Cooked meat thrown at them in the playground. That might be what Joan was thinking. Zombies don't like cooked food (don't know her, so going out on a limb).
Me: Nah. She just thinks we're freaks. She doesn't understand it's all gonna end in zombies.
Me: But I see where you're going with the meat angle.
Sherry: Ah! Then cooked meat for her! We get the fresh stuff! *does raw meat dance* I like the tombstone angle too. Can you see people lugging those onto your property? Or making a bunch of fake ones? "Get in the ground where ya belong!"
Me: Fuck them! If I'm not a zombie I'm doing the Viking funeral! That'll teach em!
Sherry: Burning them or you? lol
Me: Both. Vikings liked to take people with them!
Sherry: Cool! I wanna loot and pillage!
Me: As long as it's not my house.


Reading over this, it's actually a pretty normal type of conversation for the two of us. Including getting a random person in on it without context and having sent her a picture of my ass. Once we started discussing the weather and I ended up with a picture of her boobs because she took responsibility for making it snow. And it evolved into a conversation promising to take care of the others children should we meet untimely deaths.

Like I said, best friend.