Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Grave Walking

I have often observed people suddenly shivering for no apparent reason, even on the warmest of days. Their usual explanation is, “Someone has just walked over my grave.”

All well and good. But if we analyze this expression logically, it can mean one of only two things: either the person in question has already reserved a plot in a cemetery or churchyard for future use, or, he is, in fact, one of the undead, temporarily risen from his tomb. In both cases, these people obviously exhibit a heightened proprietorial instinct, allowing them to sense trespass onto their property from afar (presumably, if someone walks over their Porche or country pied-à-terre they get similar shivers). So how are we to tell the two shivering groups apart? And, perhaps more to the point, why does it matter that we should?

Because, while most of the people who've reserved plots in advance are generally OK, the other group, the undead (if George A. Romero films and those Hammer horrors from the late 1950s and early 60s are to be believed, anyway), tend at some point to want to chew your arm off, or eat your brains, or suck all your blood out, which is never particularly pleasant. The usual remedy for this is a stake through the heart or destruction of the cranium. However, before you start impaling people or bashing their heads in, it is vitally important that you first try to tell the two groups apart. It would be horribly unfortunate, for example, if the person whose chest you impaled on a tent peg or whose head you skewered with an ice pick subsequently turned out simply to be someone who, like June Whitfield or Michael Parkinson in those AXA Sun Life “Guaranteed Over 50 Plan” television advertisements, had simply been fiscally prudent and paid in advance for his funeral arrangements.

Unfortunately, zombies and vampires rarely tell you beforehand that they’re going to eat you or drain you dry of blood, so it’s often difficult to tell the walking cadavers from the financially responsible. Indeed, if I were a member of the undead, intent on making a meal out of you and your relatives, I would probably point out the fiscal benefits of paying a fixed monthly sum, with the policy redeemable upon death, just in order to lull you into a false sense of security. I might even offer a free radio alarm clock, Parker pen, or DVD player, too. So, basically, what this means is that we can’t know. Indeed, it is quite possible that both June Whitfield and Michael Parkinson are zombies, and the television ads are merely a smokescreen.

Given this, then, I suppose, on consideration, the only safe option is to treat zombies, June Whitfield, and Michael Parkinson equally. And to flush them out, as many of us as possible should walk over as many graves as possible. Thereafter, whoever senses the fact must be decerebrated and eviscerated, his body burnt, and the ashes scattered to the four winds. Particularly if the DVD player he’s offering you is one of those crappy, own-brand Matsui models from Curry’s.


Anonymous said...

Want to walk on graves?Try the Ypres Salient,Stalingrad,Verdun.Fucking full of 'em!

Joe Slavko said...

It would take too long. I prefer my graves in small, churchyard-sized portions. Otherwise it goes straight to my hips.

Anonymous said...

Increasing medical breakthroughs and a reduction in the emergence of superhero's has, for sometime, resulted in greater numbers of the living dead flocking around shopping centers - (specifically targetting Wh Smiths Book signings events) and equally sat in zombie like catatonic state in the studio of Alan Titchmarsh;s aftertoon show. This is a concerning pandemic which needs addressing.Having researched this macabre trend I have established that the leader of this rum bunch is cliff richard. I was going to him and his infirmed minions out with a stake to the pension book, but fortunately the nationwide post office closures appears to be culling them faster than badgers

Yours, Van Helsing.

Joe Slavko said...

I wonder if Cliff Richard's colostomy bag will survive his death (or undeath, even)?