Even the Rust Belt zombies are down on themselves

It's a good thing I live with a man who makes the Boy Scouts look disorganized and unprepared, because so far the Rust Belt zombies have been easy to deal with. We've got ourselves holed up on the second floor of our house, and Bullock has done a mighty fine job of barricading the top of the stairs with the oak and walnut he was going to use for our dining room table. We also brought up all the saws, blades, knives, and other sharp objects from the woodshop and kitchen (man we have a lot of knives), all of the first aid kits (yes, plural -- Bullock is big on safety around all those sharp objects), and all of the astronaut food and water jugs from the disaster preparedness kit. It's too bad I no longer own a bow.

Meanwhile, the Rust Belt zombies are a little lackluster. I think we're over-prepared. The first ones were from the 19th century graveyard around the corner. They were quickly mowed down by the cars on the main drag that runs through Leafy Lea. But even the more recent undead aren't exactly high energy. In between the groans of "Brains!" I keep hearing things like, "Uh...nothing happens here" and "Arrrr...why bother?" I keep wanting to remind them of the fabulous art museum, the world class zoo, the wonderful symphony and opera, and the great park system, but then I remember that they're zombies and I shouldn't be nice to them.

Oops, sounds like some of the more ambitious one have realized we're up here. Gotta go!

[This silly post -- which has a certain grain of truth to it (minus the zombies) -- is brought to you by My Elves are Different's Blog Like It's the End of the World Day: Zombie Attack. Hat tip to Morgan.]