Originally posted 3/7/06
"What the hell happened to your car?" RJ asked me one evening. "It looks like you had zombies in it."
Well, here is the horrible truth. I had zombies in it.
See, I was driving through Crawford, Texas a couple of years ago. It was a little out of my way to Roswell, but I heard there were interesting things going down there and decided to check it out myself. How else would I become an expert on all things alien conspiracy?
Flipping through the meager radio selection (Pretty Hate Machine was already stuck in the tape deck at that time), I stumbled upon that most feared horror movie foreshadowing - the Emergency Broadcast System. "Unusual hydrocarbons have been detected in the petroleum supply moving through Houston, Corpus Christi and Crawford. The refining processes in those areas may have allowed these chemicals to escape into the air. No health threat is expected at this time. Please avoid the industrial areas of these cities if possible and listen for further instructions."
Now, you should always be careful of non-emergencies that end up on the Emergency Broadcast System. It's generally used as the Emergency Downplay System. Don't panic, but you're about to die!
As I tried to find a news station, I spotted two hitchhikers on the side of the highway. And what do you know, one of them was my childhood friend, Brandy.
I pulled over and reached across to unlock the passenger door. Too late, I saw the gruesome reality of the situation.
These were zombies. Not your average "BRAINS!" zombies, but Land of The Dead style, with rational thought. They've learned to drive trucks and use automatic weapons and tan human hides.
Brandy Zombie tore into the car. Her companion leapt at me from the backseat, tearing up the cheap ceiling liner of the Saturn.
Fortunately, I had OnStar, and the zombie attack triggered a helpful voice from somewhere outside of Dallas. OnStar is designed for just such an unimaginably traumatic situation, as evidenced in their advertising, like the one with the caption Daddy, are you sleeping?
"OnStar, how can I help you?"
"I'm being fucking attacked by zombies!"
"Okey dokey. Are these the viral contagion zombies or alien hydrocarbon zombies?"
"Uh... the second one?"
"Okey dokey, just sit tight!"
"Sit tight? Are you fucking kidding me? I'm about to look like the ceiling of my Saturn and...."
Suddenly a loud, high pitched shriek blasted from every speaker in the car. It hurt my ears, but it was apparently even more painful to the zombies. They covered their ears and began to scream. The shriek was followed by the voice of Scott Stapp, which finally drove the zombies from my car. I took off down the highway before I could even close the doors.
To make a long story short, OnStar rules. It saved me from the zombies. But my insurance would not cover the busted speakers or the claw marks in the ceiling. So my car will always bear the evidence of that fateful day.
And that is why my car looks like a P.O.S. True story. For real.
3 comments:
You know - I will have to remember that explanation the next time my hubby looks askance at the inside of my car. :)
When I was growing up in Shreveport, it was teh suck. However, I did see Dawn of the Dead for the first time as a midnight movie at Mall St. Vincent. Afterward, I had to ride my bike home alone in the dark. Years later, I saw Day of the Dead as a midnight movie at Joy Cinema 6. My car wouldn't start and I had to wait in the subfreezing night for someone to come jump my engine.
So I do have these fond zombie memories of Shreveport.
I would buy five GM cars right now if they used that story in a commercial.
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