I guess it wasn't such a great idea after all. You know, we had this fan-tas-tic party going on, and Hugh was blitzed out of it. Like dead. Well, wasn't that bad. 'twas his house, after all. We partied on for a while - until the neighbors threatened to call the cops, that is - and then most of us went home. The rest decided to crash on the floor.
And then we had this idea with the ketchup bottle. Or the ketchup bottle fell and gave us that idea. Don't know which way. Suddenly everything was red and sticky. And all the people on the floor. And Marilyn laughed, "It looks like the zombie apocalypse!"
See? That's how it came about. We had fun, gooey stuff everywhere, it was a real mess. Looked really real, I can tell you. We had a blast. And a plan.
I shook Hugh to wake him up. "We got a problem, man! The zombies are here!"
He looked around wild-eyed, brain full of booze. Marilyn hid in the next room, peeping around the door frame, stifling her laughter with a fist in her mouth. I suppressed the urge to grin and said something about checking on the other rooms to make sure we were safe.
Best moment of my life.
Until Terry stirred and Hugh took the baseball bat to his skull. You gotta go for their brains. The zombies', I mean.