Old Habits Are Hard To Break

An Easy Fifty • I Wanted To Be In A Bad Mood

One Minute Wit

An Easy Fifty

Mark Starlin

I went hiking in Raven Rock State Park today. About two miles into the trail, I saw Bigfoot. Naturally, I grabbed my phone to take a picture of him.

He walked over and said, “I’ll give you fifty dollars if you don’t take my picture.”

I said, “Fifty bucks not to take a photo? Deal!”

He handed me a fifty-dollar bill. I smiled all the way back to the car.

Can you believe that Bigfoot? What a chump.

Life

I Wanted To Be In A Bad Mood

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Sometimes, I get moody. Today, I wanted to be in a bad mood. But I made the mistake of laying in a hammock in the shade.

Then I saw a puppy playing with a two-year-old while her mother looked on and laughed.

Then the ice cream truck stopped, and the ice cream guy got out, walked over, and gave me a free strawberry shortcake ice cream for being a good customer. Then he walked away whistling.

Then a great song I hadn’t heard in twenty years came on the radio.

Then I reached into my pocket and found a twenty-dollar bill I had forgotten about.

Then my boss called and said he was giving me an extra week of paid vacation if I could take it starting Monday.

Then, the FedEx delivery woman dropped off a box of my Mom’s cinnamon rolls.

Then I got a text from my wife saying we were going on a bike ride and would probably stop somewhere and get a churro.

Way to kill the mood, people.

Story

Old Habits Are Hard To Break

Even when you become a zombie

Abby Savage

In the wooded heart of Canada, the plaid-clad workers known as lumberjacks, or loggers, toil at their trade. Obviously, not all of them are named Jack, as that would be mighty confusing. But it just so happens that this story is about a logger named Jack. As you might imagine, Jack was reminded of that irony on more than one occasion.

Jack didn’t mind. There was nothing he loved more than spending time in the woods. Cutting down trees was more than just a job to Jack; it was his calling. The company he worked for practiced sustainable logging, replacing the trees they removed by planting new ones. This made Jack happy.

But even a happy Jack is bound to face hardship at some point in his life. Tuesday was that day. Jack had just finished a hearty lunch—featuring a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—when he noticed something streaking across the sky.

Usually, such sights were associated with a bird in flight or a bush pilot taking someone fishing. But this streaking object was unusual. To Jack’s untrained eye, it looked like a rocket carrying a zombie-producing virus created by an evil mad scientist and sold to an unscrupulous member of some military who wanted to weaponize zombies and was using this as a test. He hoped he was wrong.

He wasn’t. That was exactly what the rocket was. It hit Canadian soil and exploded, sending the virus in every direction. Unfortunately, Jack was standing in one of those directions. He held his breath as long as he could, but we all know how pointless that is.

When Jack woke up, he was a zombie. Now, most zombies are pretty stupid since they were often dead for a while, and their brains decayed. But Jack was still fresh. He wasn’t even sure he had actually died. Until he tried to get up. He could barely control his limbs. He shuffled in a zombie-like manner over to the nearest stream to confirm his suspicion. Jack was horrified at what he saw. He looked like he had been dead for years.

How long had he been lying on the ground? Why hadn’t any wild beasts eaten him? Then he noticed that he still felt full from his hearty lunch. He figured the virus must have caused his body to decay at a rapid rate. Jack wondered why a mad scientist would want ragged zombies as weapons. Wouldn’t healthy, agile zombies be better killers? But there was no point in contemplating that question for long. He was unlikely to get an answer.

Now what? Jack thought. Am I supposed to start craving human flesh? He thought about it for a few seconds and decided that he, in fact, had no appetite at all for human flesh. He was pretty relieved about that. Although, possibly, it was because he had just finished a PB&J. Time would tell. 

Jack hoped he wouldn’t develop a taste for humans since there weren’t a whole lot of humans around. And he didn’t think he could walk very far on his wobbly legs.

Jack thought a little longer and decided what he really wanted to do was cut down a tree. Apparently, being a zombie didn’t change his love for logging. So he shuffled over to his chainsaw and picked it up. Then Jack shuffled over to a huge pine. Easily eighty feet tall.

With great effort, Jack started the chainsaw. But his arms were unsteady. Jack lost his grip on the saw, and it swung down and cut off one of his legs. He fell to the ground, and the saw bounced over to his other leg and cut it off. Jack was surprised that he felt no pain and wasn’t bleeding. But he was now a legless zombie. 

Jack wondered if his legs could be reattached like some kind of Frankenstein zombie. So he grabbed them a started crawling toward his jeep.

Then heard the sound of wood being cut. He twisted to one side and looked behind him. His coworker, Bethany, who also loved logging, was sawing the tree directly behind him. He tried to shout at Bethany to stop, but apparently, the zombie virus affected speech, and all he could manage was “grrurrg.” Which could not be heard over the chainsaw noise.

He had to admire Bethany’s technique, considering she was also a zombie.

Then it dawned on his virus-infected brain. A legless zombie logger was not much of an unlife. And he really, really didn’t want to start craving human flesh. So Jack rolled over onto his back and watched as the giant pine started falling in his direction. It would be a direct hit.

Seconds before the tree crushed his zombie body into the ground, Jack said, “Grrerrebreegetrry.” Which translates into, “Thank you, Bethany.”

Happy Monday. Thanks for reading and responding. You make it fun.

Mark

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Monday Morning Mark • 181