Zombiez! Read Free

first place, with its Fate
and its Other People and its Responsibilities. She grew up in an
unreal world caused by chemicals in her brain, and it's only
natural that she would feel at home there with the cute little
angry red creatures and all the other stuff her mind invented.
    And then yesterday her son called up and said
he was moving to fucking Alaska with that shrew of a girlfriend of
his. What kind of person does that, just up and moves halfway
around the world? Who's she supposed to call in the middle of the
night to come over and rub her feet now? Is she supposed to conjure
up a nocturnal foot-rubber out of thin air? Ahh, that evil
girlfriend, what was her name again? Stacy. Stupid Stacy. Stupid
Stacy with her red hair and freckles and gigantic jugs and
unwelcome advice. She could just see the conversations between this
whore and her son now:
    Stacy: You know, you're spending way too much
time with your mother. What are you, some sort of mama's boy?
    John: No, I really want to be with her. She's
so cool. Why don't you like her?
    Stacy: I don't know, but I'm withholding
access to these ***s of mine until you forsake her utterly.
    John: Ok, then. Alaska it is. ***s > my
poor crazy mother, that's for sure.
    Stacy: My plan is complete.
    So you see why it was a foregone conclusion
that Rose would today find solace in the farmer's field amongst the
gently mooing baby cows and the one man on whom she could always
count – John F. Kennedy, the greatest man who ever lived. She tore
at her turkey leg with her teeth as he used his delightful, iconic
accent to compliment her on her choice of clothing. Rose was
beloved and satisfied, and all was right in the 3' x 7' world.

THE SCIENTIST
    “There's no such thing as 'Death Panels,'
Reverend. I assure you of that.”
    The man in the glasses was lying to the other
panel, the non-death one. The second panel was there to observe and
report on the progress of the first. Unfortunately, there had been
reports that the first panel had deviated from its original mission
of cost-saving and care-optimization and into a real-life version
of the proverbial lifeboat. The second panel, comprised of
community and hospital leaders, was there to determine the veracity
of these accusations, which it almost surely would not, what with
the lies and the political considerations and all.
    The man in the glasses was the one
responsible for the aforementioned deviation. He did not respect
the missions of the first panel or the second panel, he just wanted
to humanely get rid of some resource-hogs. He was not a doctor. He
did have a Master's degree in African Cultural Studies, though.
    “Nobody used that term, Mr. Greene. Nobody is
accusing you or anyone else of running a so-called 'Death Panel.'
We know that only the most naïve and politicized of souls believe
in their existence. What we want to make sure of going forward, is,
um, that you aren't deciding to withhold medical care to people
based upon your own, or anyone else's, sense of their worth as
human beings.”
    “What you described just now is a 'Death
Panel.' Surely you must realize that, Reverend. They are a figment
of the imagination of misguided and hypocritical moral
zombies.”
    His plan was to associate the truth with
Sarah Palin and her regressive right-wing brainwashed masses, and
thereby discredit it. This Pastor chairing this second panel was a
known political progressive, and he figured she would want to avoid
being associated with that moose-shooting harpy at all costs. Mr.
Greene hoped she would just give up the whole line of questioning,
but had a backup plan ready in case she didn't.
    “Look, Mr. Greene. Morty.” the man next to
the chairwoman spoke up. He knew Morton Greene from college, and
was sympathetic to all his missions. He was a bit frustrated with
how – forgive his crassness – bitchy Morty was being towards
the second panel. There was a lot at stake here, and he knew this
needed to be played just right. “Please