I woke up this morning to see a dense layer of fog. Visibility was severely limited, and there was a fine mist in the air. As I walked outside to inspect the size of the tree limb that came down during a recent storm, I remembered that it was Zombie Jesus Day. I couldn't help but think that this sort of fog would mean I'd never see the monstrosity until it was right on top of me. I was unarmed, surrounded by fog, and not in any mood to share my brains.
I turned sharply to face a nearby rustling in the bushes. Was it "Him" or had I let the dog out too? Surely the dog would warn me of approaching danger if she was outside with me. And if not...well, I didn't want to think about that. Time to get back inside and make sure the chainsaw was fully gassed.
Short on supplies, I set out for the store. The first church I drove by had an electronic sign in front that confirmed what I had feared all along: "He is risen." I would need more ammo.
Many people have told me I'm being silly and that there is absolutely no historical evidence that the Jesus of the bible ever lived. The thing is, I've seen what he can do. I've seen the mindless behavior of his victims as they congregate each week like drones devoted to a cruel master. I've seen how they offer up their own children and even go door-to-door to trick others into surrendering their brains.
I'm going to have to remain vigilant today. For it is the one day of the year when Zombie Jesus returns to find fresh brains, brains from the few of us left who haven't been infected.
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