I had the pleasure of attending a Gun Show at the Manatee County Civic Center with my friend Michael. It was an interesting event that was well-attended and swarming with gun owners as well as soon to be gun owners. Each table had a different motif. Some were classic shops that had centuries' old weaponry on display, while others had tablescapes topped with modern handguns, ammunition, and some even had stun guns and pepper spray (for those fans of non-lethal self defense).
My favorite booth was the largest one at this particular venue. They took up almost two entire rows inside the large auditorium. The sales people flanked the customers on all sides. And the managers scooted back and forth across the extensive space on Segues. I did not expect to see a notoriously un-manly mode of transportation at such an event, but there they were, silently zooming through the middle of the two rows, stopping only to ask, “can I help you find something?” or “that is a fine piece you have there.” The latter of those two comments made me chuckle a little to myself.
However, the next thing I heard made stop, look, and listen carefully to what was to follow. A woman standing over my left shoulder, glancing intently at a Glock 9mm handgun called her husband over to give his opinion on the price and viability of a possible purchase on her part. She pointed to a pistol with a pink camouflaged handle, and made sure to mention that it came with a free holster. It was selling for $595.00. She wanted to have it, and the fact that it came with free accessories only enticed her more. When I turned to catch a glimpse of her and her husband, I was greeted with an unanticipated sight. This woman had her baby strapped to her chest with a camouflage-colored Baby Bjorn. I didn't know the Swedes made anything camouflaged (I later learned that this company was based out of Kennesaw, Ga; and it made more sense). Lady Bjorn then took to pointing at several other firearms, each time, exclaiming to Lord Bjorn that it should be the next addition to their home arsenal.
He responded comically by saying, “What are you doing, getting ready for the Zombie Apocalypse?”
She quickly retorted, “It is Easter tomorrow, otherwise known as Zombie Jesus Day. So, why not?”
They laughed heartily, and luckily so. Because had they not, they would have heard me snickering at their most recent comments. He told her that Florida law required a three day waiting period to purchase a handgun, and she would not have them in time for the Zombie Apocalypse; so they'd better go look for some knives instead (good thinking). They moved on to the next booth, but as they left I saw them continuing their conversation. I could only assume that they made further reference to the death and resurrection of Jesus; and its parallels to popular zombie lore.
I imagined he would agree with her comment and provide further valid reasoning that those who are killed, but rise from the dead to join the living are generally referred to as Zombies (or Keith Richards). He would cite the transitive property of equality; telling Lady Bjorn that if A equals B, and B equals C, then A must also equal C. He would further explain that any person who rises from the dead to rejoin the living, are signified by the letter A for this exercise, Zombies would in turn be B, and Jesus being a living person at one point (Son of God or Virgin Birth aside) was C, so then, by that transitive property, Jesus was indeed a Zombie.
This led me into deep thought about the true meaning of Easter and those who follow the teachings of the Bible. I searched on the internet for additional clues as to the possible links between the Lord and Savior of the Christians and the popular myths or legends of Zombies. I read Acts 2:24 and was greeted with my first clue when it read, “But God raised him from the dead, freeing him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him.” In Earthly language, this is called “reanimation.” It is the process of bringing a person back to life after a brief stint of brain death. This is why all zombies are only able to process simple thoughts and brain patterns due to their lack of living brain cells. Anger and hunger are the primal urges of any human, and that provided me with a perfect explanation of why they feel the need to kill and consume the fully functioning brains of the living. We can only assume that in their undead minds, they believe this will help them to regain their former utilities.
Upon further research, I came across some other warning signs. Apparently, when Jesus became wise to his demise, he prepared his followers for what was to come. His dad (God), had obviously let him in on the approaching crucifixion and subsequent reanimation he was to endure, so during the last supper, he should brace the Apostles for it. God, being an all-knowing individual, assumed Jesus would encounter many others once he became a Holy Zombie. The most likely candidates for his initial encounters would be those twelve gentleman that had followed him so obediently over the years. According the John 6:53, Jesus said, “Very truly I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.” He had them eating flesh and drinking blood as living, breathing mortals- hoping that once the Zombie Apocalypse began, they would be ready to do as they must in obedience with God's wishes. Would they not, they would soon find themselves only victims, rather than immortal carriers of the Christian Zombie virus.
I thought back to my many encounters with Christians, in and away from their natural habitats. The most devout Christians always seemed to me to have a certain something missing when I spoke to them. A deadening of the eyes or a blank facial expression usually preceded the words, “I want to talk to you about Jesus.” All this time I just figured they were less intelligent than most, breathing in air through mouths agape. With one-track minds, they only think about spreading the Gospel or converting someone to their line of thinking.
It finally dawned on me, these were not sentient beings at all, but rather, they were zombies. Poisoned by the flesh and blood of the undead. The Eucharist or Holy Communion was God and Jesus' way of infecting the living. The wafers and wine, or flesh and blood, were tiny doses of zombie paste and punch. Those who went to church every week had already eaten and drank enough to be full-fledged zombies themselves. While others who only attended on Christmas and Easter were slower to succumb to the infection. The words “I want to talk to you about Jesus” were their equivalent to Dracula's “I want to suck your blood” or a common zombie's “Uhhhh, brains!”
It was all making sense now. Those who once had dreams of contributing to society as free thinking individuals, but now found themselves roaming the Earth looking for victims, were intoxicated with tainted flesh and poisoned blood over numerous trips to their local church. Their slow-moving, leg-dragging counterparts that appear in so many George Romero movies were no longer the ones of whom we should be afraid. The Blessed Sacrament had replaced the need to break open the skulls of their prey and feast on their brains in order to transfer the infection. All those dead-eyed and blank-faced Christians I had met in my travels were not simpletons, but rather, they were the infected disciples of Zombie Jesus. And the Lord and Lady Bjorn were preparing themselves to fend them off with their purchases. Little Baby Bjorn would not fall victim to them. Not now, not ever and especially not on Easter Weekend!