My Father, The Zombie

My father has had to overcome a lot in his life. He was born an orphan, had to work two jobs to put himself through college, and is allergic to tomatoes (which are in more things than you think). Also, he is a zombie. So I imagine that’s pretty hard on him as well.

Despite all this, my dad is probably the greatest dad that ever lived. Well, technically I guess zombies aren’t alive. They’re undead. But still, that doesn’t stop him from being a pretty great father.

He always tries to take an interest in my hobbies, even when I know he’d rather be doing something else (like eating brains). For example, he’s never missed a single one of my football games. Sometimes, he gets so into it, that he skulks onto the field and tries to open up the passing lanes by grabbing the necks of the opposing team and biting at their helmets. Of course, if any other dad did that, it would be game interference or something. But penalties really haven’t been an issue ever since that first ref tried to get my dad ejected.

I may not like it all the time, but my dad also pushes me to do my best in school. He’s always telling me to do my homework and to study hard. That way, he says, my brain will get “really big and juicy.”

Still, I guess all parents can be a little embarrassing at times. My friend Anna always talks about how humiliating it is when her father gives her a hug in front of all her friends. I tell her, “That’s nothing. My dad punches through walls and tries to eat my friends’ brains while they’re going to bathroom!”

So yeah, I guess we all have to deal with something.

And sometimes I’ll admit that he puts a little too much pressure on me. He’s always talking about how I’m going to lead the great zombie apocalypse. Okay dad, maybe. But I’m only 15 right now. What if I just want to be a graphic designer or manager at Applebee’s or something? We’ll see, I guess.

It’s things like that that sometimes make me wish his brains had never been eaten by that marauding zombie horde on the outskirts of town. But then I think of all the good things that have come out of it, like how we spend more time together. It used to be that he was out working at all hours of the day. But now, half the time when I get home and expect him to be gone, I find him pressed up against a corner of the room, just walking in place.

I know, I know. The only reason he’s still there is because he couldn’t find the front door, but still, it’s nice to see him more often.

So while sometimes I may think about shoving a crow bar into his brain stem and killing him like my school guidance counselor suggested, the truth is I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else in the world.