A lot has changed since the zombie outbreak of 2018. Some thought it would like World War Z. Others thought it would be like Zombieland. Even more still thought to other movies and fictional pieces like Resident Evil, Night of the Living Dead, and even Michael Jackson’s Thriller video. Oh, and I mustn’t forget everyone’s favorite television series, The Walking Dead. We thought such shows would actually prepare us for a zombie outbreak. You know, stock up on gasoline for our cars, guns, ammunition . . . I still like the idea of using quarters and nickels as ammunition. In fact, I have a stockpile in my car and my bedroom. You know. Just in case.
Of course, we all lived in ignorant bliss of what an actual zombie apocalypse might look like. (I still remember when my neice, Chloe, asked me after viewing a Resident Evil movie marathon, if she could eat my face if she ever turned into a zombie. My sister’s boyfriend’s best friend got his ass kicked after that. My nephew, Ian, can’t handle those kinds of movies. His dad was a real dickhead. I almost went to jail for pounding his face in after he’d done the same damned thing to my older sister. Poor kid has issues because he hit his head against the wall too hard. It took us a week to convince him that such movies weren’t real, could never be real. In hindsight, that was actually rather stupid, but hey. We live and learn, right? Oh, yeah, by the way. Because her question stunned me, and my daughter was like three at the time, I agreed. She’s five, and I call her my bug. How could I tell her ‘no’ when she asked me so nicely and sweetly?)
Yeah, 2018. Everything thought the current president of the United States would bring us to our doom. Nope. Not even close. Russia and North Korea? Oh, please. You’re killing me with the jokes. My sides hurt now from laughing too hard.
Oh, don’t worry. My neice Chloe remains as normal as can be. She and my two-year-old son fight over who gets to sit in my lap whenever I visit my sister. We still have zombies in our neighborhoods and as our co-workers. The outbreak wasn’t as bad as we thought it would be. In fact, believe it or not (or not – quite honestly, I still have a hard time believing this, and I was there when it happened), the life saver for all of us during the outbreak were companies like Pancake Cafe’ and Express Mail Deliver.
I know, how could that be, right? Well, I’d always joked with my co-workers we’d always be open. You see, most of you probably don’t know it, but, before the outbreak, companies like the Pancake Cafe’ and Express Mail Delivery ran twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I, of course, worked as a server for the Pancake Cafe’, which, you know, was everywhere in the U.S. You couldn’t ask for Christmas off. Most of us didn’t dare, anyway (not when we could possibly walk out with $300 or better in an hour-shift. Come on now. When you’re a server, and you have food to put on the table, Christmas tips are LIFE-SAVERS!). A lot of customers thought it was sad that we had to work holidays, yet it never stopped them from taking advantage.
Anyway, as I was saying, because we were always open twenty-four/seven, I used to joke that very little would close our doors. Sure, a water pipe bursting would – that’s health code violation, don’t you know – but a zombie or alien apocalypse? World War III bearing down on us? Nah. I always said our managers would still tell us to serve pancakes, anyway.
It was all joke. I never expected to be right.
Yeah, I still work for Pancake Cafe. I at least get to carry a gun in case a customer zombie tries to breaks the rules and eat other guests or any of our servers. But, until they do so, thanks to the “Zombies are people, too” movement, we’re not allowed to discriminate against them. We do have a zombies only section – they do stink something horrible – and, of course, one of our best cooks is a zombie. We’re only allowed to put down the ones that are threats to public safety, namely killing humans indiscriminately and/or trying to eat dogs and cats. The animal rights activists have had field days with the zombies’ rights activists – please don’t ask. My head still aches from hearing all of the legalities behind it all.
They’re not that bad, the zombies. Some used to be vegetarians in life. Those tend to be the servers’ favorites. They tip surprisingly well, and they order the wheat, walnut, and banana pancakes the most.
The zombies also leave kids alone. In fact, they’re not the ravenous hordes depicted in the movies. If anything, they just look like worn-out people. Except with bits of flesh falling off every now and then. Our zombie cook? Yeah, he looks like a fricken mummy most of the time. Can’t discriminate against them in employment, either, and he’s still a damn good cook, despite occasionally getting pissed off and eating the brains of some of the servers. (They really shouldn’t make his undead status an issue. He’s still quite sore about it, and he doesn’t have a good rein on his temper like he did before he died and came back. I know Carl complains about losing good servers that way, but you just don’t insult your cook who has been known eat servers’ brains. He’s not a threat to public safety when he does that. At least, not yet. By the way, did I mention he’s a damn good cook? My kids love, love, love getting pancakes when he’s on duty.)
Anyway, yeah. Pancake Cafe’ helped to mitigate the severity of the zombie outbreak. How, you ask? Well, we served pancakes! The zombies that came in? One of the servers squeaked out, “Don’t eat me! Eat the pancakes!”
And they did.
It was the one place where everyone could come together and have a nice meal, despite the initial chaos and the mass looting in the streets.
I can’t say that I’m glad that I work there. But hey. There are definitely worse places to be nowadays.
At least it wasn’t a vampire apocalypse, right?
Enchanted Realms 