So, my family was talking about what we would do to survive a zombie apocalypse…
On the way to church.
Allow me to explain for a brief second. Yes, we are Christians — who just happen to like science fiction.
We enjoy finding logic errors and bad science in sci-fi shows and movies. This has led to some very unusual family discussions and ridiculous questions. Why do the ghost-hunting tape recorders pick up only English-speaking spirits who sound eerily like bad radio deejays? What would have happened if the “War of the World” aliens landed in Louisiana? How do people on space ships have really good-looking clothes if they’ve been stuck in space for four generations? Why are they making more Star Wars movies?
But I digress. Back to the zombie apocalypse.
My kids began talking about who would rank highest in the family if biters took over the world. Dad gets the top spot because his years in the Boy Scouts taught him a few things about survival, he knows how to operate fire arms, and he’s a former linebacker with a fierce protection attitude. My son gets the next spot because he’s a great marksman, doesn’t scare easily and has amazing strategy skills. The battle for third place was on between me and my teen-age daughter.
This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. A year ago, I was a shoo-in for second place because I was in great shape and had a serious warrior attitude about my family. My ranking is up in the air now. I still have a warrior attitude, but my body ain’t what it used to be. Cancer took my thyroid gland, and the way I figure it, I could survive for about 30 days without the artificial hormones that do silly things like control my heartbeat and metabolism. After that, I’d end up as zombie bait or a biter myself.
“I’d have to be third,” my daughter said. “Mom would only have a month to live anyway.”
“Yeah, but I know how to shoot a gun and catch fish,” I piped in. “And I know medical stuff that could keep the rest of you alive. Plus, I fight back when I get scared. You freak out in the Wal-Mart Halloween aisle.”
“I haven’t freaked out in years!” my daughter exclaimed. “Plus Mom can’t run!”
“She wouldn’t have to run if the zombies were like the ones from “World War Z,” my husband added. “She could probably protect all of us because the zombies need a healthy host to spread the virus. We could hide behind her.”
“And if they were like “The Walking Dead” zombies, I could volunteer for all the dangerous stuff so you wouldn’t have to,” I added. “Gotta make those days count.”
“I think I have to go with mom,” my son added. “Mom’s got more skills.”
My husband nodded in agreement, sending the girl child into angst.
“I rank last?” my daughter exclaimed. “That’s not fair.”
“Hey, we’re still keeping you in the family,” I added. “You just have to admit that I rank a little higher – for 30 days.”
My daughter wasn’t happy with the answer and decided to ask her friends who should rank higher. At first they thought it was a weird conversation, but they eventually started tossing out pros and cons. In the end, the girls picked me for the number three spot.
“I love you and your mom,” said one of my daughter’s friends. “But I think a family would need a mom during the zombie apocalypse because moms help take care of everyone and they can help you feel better. Plus, I’ve seen your mom kick butt.”
My position is secure.
Until the giant asteroid hurtling towards earth makes us decide who we allow inside the family’s underground bunker.
*Yes, this conversation really happened, and the entire family, and my daughter’s friends, laughed through the whole thing. Our “gallows humor” about my thyroid cancer may seem a bit morbid to those on the outside, but it’s a helpful stress reliever for us. We’d rather laugh about it than cry because of it.