It's Not My Fault. It Was The Zombies.

Three Conversations That Explain Everything. Excuses In Three Parts.

Part The First:

Ms. Sheep: (picking up the phone) Hello? Ms. Sheep speaking. If this is the call she's been waiting for regarding her bid for early retirement, please speak slowly and clearly.

Mrs. Secretary Who Sits At The Front Desk: Nope. Just me.

MS: Oh. That's OK, too.

MSWSATFD: Guess what?

MS: No. I'm too tired.

MSWSATFD: Didn't figure you'd do it. Just had to try. Any-hoo...I brought you a Christmas Tree! Can I bring it up?

MS: Sure. That'll make things festive here in The Land The School District Forgot.

MSWSATFD: Wait'll you see it! It's little and has lights and I made special decorations for it!

MS: Do tell...

MSWSATFD: Zombies!!!! I printed out lots and lots of zombie pictures and pasted them to colorful papers! It's a Zombie Christmas Tree!!!

MS: You are the best Secretary Who Sits At The Front Desk EVER!!!!

Part The Second:

Cheerful Teaching Assistant: (looking up from her laptop) Can I ask you a question?

Ms. Sheep: Sure. As long as you aren't pinning your hopes on my having an answer.

CTA: If you were in the city and it was overrun by zombies, what's a good hiding place? Like a fortress?

MS: There's lots of places. I'd look for a school, though. Most schools are pretty well fortified and have multiple floors. They have kitchens, bathrooms and shower facilities. Lots of advantages.

CTA: I was thinking a bank might work.

MS: No.

CTA: Really? If the zombies got in, you could lock yourself in the vault...

MS: Where you'd die.

CTA: No, I think the zombies would give up after a while.

MS: Maybe. But how would you get out of the vault? Some are designed to open from the inside, but if the power is out you can't be sure. And what if it's airtight? Too many things we don't know. I'd find a school. Avoid the hospitals, police stations and fire stations. If you stumble across a deserted prison, that might work, too. Kind of risky, though.

CTA: Thanks. A school it is. (returns to her laptop and begins typing furiously)

Part The Third:

Ms. Sheep: Hi, Mrs. Secretary Who Sits At The Front Desk!

Mrs. Secretary Who Sits At The Front Desk: Well, hello Ms. Sheep! What can I do for you?

MS: Have you ever played that game? The one where the guy is in the mall and he has to fight off the zombies with lawn mowers and chainsaws and stuff?

MSWSATFD: Oh, yes! It's a hoot!

MS: Should I get it?

MSWSATFD: I have that game. Would you like to borrow it first? I have to go pick up the paychecks today and it would only take me a minute to stop at my house. I'd be happy to do it.

MS: I love you. Deeply. Truly. Passionately.

MSWSATFD: Is that a "yes?"

The Zombie Christmas Tree? I forgot to take a picture of it before taking it apart so MSWSATFD could return the tree to her daughter. I kept the ornaments, though and they are now dangling merrily from a plastic palm in my classroom. Maybe I'll get a picture of that at some point for you. Suffice it to say, though, it was awesome and got me thinking about zombies more than I usually do. Which is a lot...

The conversation on Urban Fortresses? That was the CTA's research for a very clever Christmas present. She made me an interchangeable Zombie Survival Form with laminated pictures that can be swapped out and held in place with hook and loop tape. She also gave me a desktop Whack-A-Zombie with a nice little book on the undead that I read to the students while they noshed on holiday cookies yesterday. A very wholesome, seasonal scene, if I do say so myself.

And the game? Well, that has taken up more of my life than I care to admit since I got home yesterday. Killing zombies in a mall is a time honored tradition, after all. You can't just set the controller down and go about your business while there are people trapped in the food court. That would be wrong!!!!

Which is my very lengthy way of explaining why The World's Greatest Stylist And Life Coach got a scarf for Christmas instead of the fingerless mitts I was knitting for her.

It wasn't my fault the mitts didn't get finished. I was really close. Honest. But other people thwarted me. They threw up all kinds of roadblocks. I was helpless to resist.

My stylist liked the scarf. Loved it, in fact. So did everyone else in the shop. There was a great deal of leaping from chairs and fondling of knitted fabric. It all worked out.

So let's not tell her about the mitts. Maybe next year, people won't toss all those zombies in my path. There could be mitts in 2010 if there are fewer distractions...

SA