Sorry, Wrong Zombie

My brother Howard is down in Provo playing an all-nighter role-playing game, where instead of controlling swords-and-sorcery-type characters, your character is yourself. And the day is today. And the 4th of July crowds… have all turned into zombies.

I suggested it might be fun if I showed up at midnight or 1 AM, when folks are kinda loopy and tired, and started moaning and banging/clawing on the door. Howard would be in on it; he could text me and let me know if it would be worthwhile on his end.

Alas, by the time 10:00 rolled around, I was too tired, so I texted him that I wouldn’t be coming, in three short words:

No zombie randy

The reply I got was


It was at this time that I realized I still have Howard’s OLD mobile number in my cell. (I thought I deleted it. Guess not.)

I could’ve texted back "wrong number, my bad," but what fun would that be? This way, somebody has a little bit more mystery in their life.

I’m glad I didn’t write "No randy-zombie," though. I mean, you get that message, and you’re glad there are no randy zombies, but now you have new fodder for nightmares.

(And what if there WAS a zombie near the person I mis-texted? What if they were waiting inside their house, and their friend went out to see if all the zombies had been dispatched, and then they got that message? "Oh, I guess it’s safe to go outsiAHHHH!" Man, I’ll feel pretty bad if that happened.)


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