Zombies R Us

Ava is a diet Nazi. Granted, we all want to lose weight and her methods are effective, but I strongly dislike feeling deprived.

On Friday, Ava and I went to lunch at a national chain restaurant. We figured we get a crappy salad from somewhere new. Remember a couple of weeks ago when the whole zombie apocalypse was supposed to arrive just after the Rapture? Obviously, the Rapture never happened, but I’m not so sure about the zombie part.

We walked into the establishment and were sort of greeted by a host in the reception area. This young man looked like the walking dead. He looked at the two of us overlong, as if he was counting us over and over just to verify how many of us there were. Finally, he asked, “Two?”

Because I’m hungry and surly, I looked at Ava and then at myself before I confirmed. “Yes, two.”

He bid us to follow him as he grabbed menus and headed off into the dining room. I’ll estimate we walked fifteen yards or less to our table, but I swear to Zeus it took us thirty seconds to get that far. If you don’t think that is a long time, I dare you to get up and try it. Go ahead, I’ll wait. I almost ran the boy over he walked so slowly. I may have been stampeding to a table, I was that hungry, but still, he was ridiculously slow.  Slow enough to have been leading a wedding march – if Zombies were allowed to get married in the state of Arizona. 

By the time we sat down in our booth, Ava and I were wide eyed with unshared mirth.

“Sweet mother Danae of Perseus.” I shook my head

“It’s like he’s been wandering in the desert for forty years,” Ava said.

Every time he came in to the room where we were seated, he looked more vacuous if that was possible. You could almost hear him saying, “brrrrrraaaaaaaaiins.”

Then this evening, the Bright Family Four decided to eat dinner there, primarily because it was close and we were starving. This time there was a young lady acting as hostess. I suspect she and the guy from before are somehow related. At least I hope they’re related, otherwise it’s too terrible to think about.

If you know of anyone like I describe: someone who walks as if they are actively dying, has visible trouble counting as high as four, and gets lost on the way to the bathroom. Might I suggest they complete an application at this restaurant. Apparently, their hiring practices are very liberal.