Well, Ben’s got me convinced there are zombies.
In his defense, which I’m really just saying to strengthen my own argument in a few minutes, he hasn’t so much said the words, “Heather, there are zombies.” BUT, he has made firm references to things that strongly imply their existence…or, at least the possibility of their existence.
For example, we have an area in our home where Ben has a growing collection of things like flashlights, non-perishable foods, Swiss Army knives, lighters, etc. You know, things that he says we could use “if the zombies come”. And, for the record, he’s said before, “Oh, let’s put that in the zombie kit!” Never once, until this morning, has he ever referred to it as the “Emergency Survival Kit.” So, the fact, Ben, that you are now using that as the name is not fair when you’re trying to make fun of me for believing in zombies.
Ben has also been to an average of about 3 movies over the course of the last 5 years. Like, in an actual movie theater. One of them was that zombie movie that everyone was going crazy over. Well, maybe it was just Max and his little posse of bros that were going crazy over it and sucked vulnerable little Ben into their bro circle when it came out. Anyway, when the movie got out that night, Ben tells this story about how he pulled into the driveway, hit the garage door opener, and as the door opened, a playground ball that must’ve been sitting on the other side slowly started roll out of the garage towards his car. He said that since he was already freaked out by the zombie movie, the ball sent him over the edge. He came bolting into the house like it was a sign the zombies were here for him.
I may not have any other highly convincing stories about why he’s done such a fine job of making me believe and be on constant watch for these things, but I think I’ve made my point.
So, last night was one of the first nights that we’ve slept with the windows open in our bedroom. Sure enough, around 1:30 AM, I hear a sound from outside. At first, I just assumed it was that sound your nose makes when you’re breathing in the middle of the night. It’s not an official “snore”, but it’s also more than just clear nostril breathing (I don’t think that’s a real, like, doctor “term”, but you know what I mean).
Maybe it’s not even really a sound that comes from your nose; it may be whatever comes after your nose canals (again, not a doctor term, but close). Like, the after-nose-canal-tubes-that-come-before-your-esophogus (sp? spell check isn’t recognizing that entire last area, so I’m not sure if I spelt esophogus wrong or if it’s just the whole term it doesn’t like) area.
Anyway, that’s what I thought the sound was. But, it started to get a little louder/closer. So, now I’m up. Like, I’m not going to just be able to let this go and fall back asleep because now I’m starting to think about how disappointed I’d be in myself if something ever happened to my family because the zombies finally did show up and I wrote it off as an “almost snore” sound instead of a warning sign.
I’m thinking now that I’m the mother and I’ve got to take action because I need to protect my family.
So, now I’m over at the window, practically hanging out, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. It’s a dull, far-away sound, but it’s definitely happening and it’s not just some weird cat or people having intercourse in the next neighborhood.
At this point, I’m trying to figure out if I should wake up Ben and risk being made fun of if it’s nothing, or go down to Maya’s room and get her because I know she’ll behave the way I am because she’s even more on guard and nervous about stuff like this than I am. I also think there’s a small chance that she’s a fraction tougher than me or Ben when it really comes down to it.
I couldn’t help myself and just started yelling to Ben. Which took way longer than it should ever take to be woken up in the middle of the night. I mean really, Ben. Your wife is yelling your name multiple times in the middle of the night and you’re not budging?
Finally, he gets up, comes over, confirms that he hears the noises I hear…and, then walks away saying, “Probably a stray animal.”
What!?! A “stray animal”? BOLOGNA. In my head, at this point, if that’s a stray animal, there’s a pack of 50-100 stray animals slowly making their way to our house and now I’ve got to figure out which of our children I am going to be able to rally to help me fight them off with the stupid flashlights and headlamps down in the zombie kit that’s, supposedly now, not actually a “zombie kit”.
That’s what he says to me this morning during our debrief before he leaves for work. “Heather, you know there’s no such thing as zombies, right? They’re like vampires, and witches, and…Harry Potter…” and, now he’s making these motions with his hands which is a clear sign that he’s making fun of me for being convinced that there is such a thing as a zombie because that’s what he’s planted in my brain for the last few years.
Fine, Ben. Next time, I’m going down to get Maya because you will clearly be useless when the zombies show up at our door wanting to take down our family.