Surviving?

For a while, zombies were my favorite animal. Or maybe second favorite, after velociraptors, I don't know. So the few times I've dressed up for Halloween in the past ten years, I've used the same costume idea: cut up some old clothes - suggestively but tastefully - pour like a gallon of fake blood on myself, and drag one of my feet behind me while chasing people and groaning. (Although last time, I never actually made it out of the bathtub where I applied the blood.)

Then came the five years when I did nothing for Halloween.

But this year was going to be different. I assumed we would be going to a party, and I wanted to dress as a League of Legends character. I was so excited, I started trying to plan my costume in August. Then I didn't buy anything for it and never made it, and there wasn't going to be a party anyway...and it was 8:30 on Halloween morning when I decided maybe I still would do something. Something different.

This year, I was a SURVIVOR.

I put on some of Joe's old worn-out Army boots that look all dirty and scuffed up, and some baggy black pants, and a sliced-up white tanktop. (I wasn't planning on going anywhere in my costume, and it's not making an appearance on my blog, either.) I didn't have any fake blood, so I used red food coloring, red lipliner, and brown eyeshadow to make scrapes and bruises. Then I put sheets over the windows (so no one could see the light coming from my fourth-floor safe haven) and lit little candles in clusters everywhere, since of course the power's been out for weeks because the zombies have killed everyone and I only want to use the generator to power my freezer. Then I hid the fresh wound on my arm with some napkins, medical tape, and an Ace bandage and served dinner with water bottles from my stash. (I still have a decent supply of water from an office building I scavenged through.)

He wasn't using it anymore.

My last companion died a while ago. There isn't enough room for him in the freezer, obviously, so I've had to eat that meat first. This is pretty much all that I have left of him. The maggots grossed me out at first, but they're not so bad once they stop moving.

And my arm...I told Joe that I got cut. I want to just pretend everything's normal for a little while longer.