Zombie Apocalypse

One of the major differences between Texas and North Carolina is the fog. I'm sure it probably has something to do with living so close to the coast, but I have never witnessed anything quite like it. The fog usually comes creeping in at night, blanketing the morning commute to work. One Friday, not too long ago, the fog gave us a double whammy. It was extremely thick in the morning (maybe a half mile visibility), burned off by noon, but then came rolling back in during the evening rush hour.

At first, I was all, "Whoa, look how thick the fog is, it's not even dark yet!" A little later that night I let the dogs into the back yard and made Ben come to the door and look at the fog. "Look, Ben! It's making its way over our back fence!" Due to the size of our back yard, this was a pretty impressive sight. I started to worry that the dogs would get lost in the fog. Everything was calm and eerily quiet, sort of like the calm that comes with the first snow fall. We could barely make out our cars in the driveway. This is when my imagination started running wild.

"Omg, this is reminding me of a horror movie. I half expect zombies at the front door any second." For the rest of the night, every little noise we heard, or anything that made the dogs bark, I'd exclaim, "It's the frickin fog zombies!"

A few days ago, I commuted to work once again with a half mile visibility. Instead of pondering the conflict in Libya or what I should do once I got to work, I thought, "Man, it would suck if there's a pile up due to a zombie eating brains in the middle of the interstate." This is something that never made sense to me in zombie movies. How is it that there are always cars piled up in the roads? How did the zombies get to these people in their cars? All of these thoughts raced through my mind when it hit me: Y'all, we're screwed if vampires and zombies ever mate.