Ben just dragged in a zombie.

He was looking very proud of himself, so I had to praise him, of course, even though it wasn’t really dead. (Post-dead? Re-dead? I don’t know the technical term for a zombie that hasn’t been fully dispatched yet.) It’s not his fault, he’s used to ninjas, which don’t require nearly so much dismemberment to dispatch. I finally had to put the poor thing down. That was kind of a problem, because I don’t keep a shotgun, chainsaw, jaws of life, or any of the other standard zombie killing equipment in the house, and my attempts to squash it with a boot didn’t go so well. (Note to self: Clean boot before con. Also, laundry. Also, get change for the cash box.)

I eventually had to take the zombie out with the tin snips. That was messy. Also, time consuming.

I’m probably not getting the security deposit back on my carpet. Damnit.

The shambling hordes of undead are gathered outside the balcony, but I’m trying to run off prints, so they’ll just have to wait awhile longer.

(It’s blog-the-zombie-apocalypse day, in case people are wondering…)