Conversations with Mbrotha: V is for Vampirism

I have a deep and abiding fear of zombies. 

Well, maybe not so much a fear.  More of an intense and growing concern that the entire world will turn into zombies at some point during my lifetime. 

On a normal day, I’d say this concern consumes roughly forty percent of my thoughts at any given moment. 

On a day that I feel like a giant booger? 

On those days my only thoughts are zombies. 

Which results in the following types of conversations:

Setting:  The boudoir

Who:  Me and Mbrotha

When:  Sometime in the last week or so, I was sick and time was hazy.

Somehow Mbrotha and I were talking about how we’re both sick and one of us (me) suggested that we probably had the zombie virus and we were both 100% likely to turn into zombies overnight and wake up fully zombified.  At this point, the conversation was all laugh-y, laugh-y, joke-y, joke-y.  Haha, we’re going to turn into zombies.  Oh, hope you don’t eat me, teehee!  Mm, your brain smells tasty, hoho! 

What fun, what fun!

Mbrotha:  Goodnight, babe, love you.

Me:  Night, love you.  Hope you don’t turn into a zombie, heeheehohohaha.

Mbrotha:  Okay then.

::about five minutes passes by and then…::

Me:  Um, hey, babe?

Mbrotha:  Yeah.

Me:  I’m sort of legitimately concerned you’ll turn into a zombie overnight.

Mbrotha:  I’m not going to turn into a zombie, pumpkin, don’t worry.  Go to sleep, good night, I love you.

Me:  Okay, phew.  Night, love you too.

::another five minutes::

Me:  No, seriously, babe, I’m really very concerned you will turn into a zombie overnight.

Mbrotha:  Honey, I’m not going to turn into a zombie.  Go to sleep.

Me:  Okay.

::five minutes::

Me:  Babe?

Mbrotha:  I’m not a zombie.

Me:  Not yet.

Mbrotha: Nor will I become one.

Me:  Listen, hon, I don’t think you fully understand my concern.

Mbrotha:  I do, now go to sleep.

::five minutes::

Me:  Hon, I’ve really thought about it, and I’m quite convinced you’re about to turn into a zombie.

Mbrotha: I’m not, I assure you.

Me:  You’re sick.

Mbrotha: I have a cold.

Me:  Or the beginnings of the zombie virus cleverly disguised as the common rhinovirus.

Mbrotha:  I’m pretty certain it’s a cold. 

Me:  Really?  Because I’m not convinced.

Mbrotha:  Okay, go to sleep.

::five minutes::

Me:  No, you are clearly becoming a zombie and because of that I already have my escape route planned.

Mbrotha:  It’s a cold.

Me:  No, listen.  I’m really freaked out here.

Mbrotha:  I know, honey, but I’m fine, it’s just a cold.

Me:  Okay, fine.  But look, in the morning, if you are no longer a human but a member of the living undead, I fully plan to bash you in the head with the iron and since you’re now undead I’ll have to bash you several times.  Then I plan to run down the hallway and call my mom.  But I can’t because now the whole world is full of zombies including my mom, so I can’t call her which means I have to deal with you on my own.

Mbrotha:  Naturally.

Me:  Right.  And you’ve chased me down the hall but you get distracted by the smell of the dogs and I can’t let you just eat them now can I?  So I have to clobber you repeatedly until I manage to knock you unconscious.  Then I’ll have to work quickly and tie you up.

Mbrotha:  Smart.

Me:  I’m going to put you in the bathroom okay?  I’ve thought about it and it’s really the safest place for you.  I don’t want other zombies to get to you and I figure they won’t be able to crawl through the window because it’s small and I plan to barricade it and the door with pieces of wood from the garage.  Plus I’ll put you in the tub and I’ll draw the curtain so if another zombie makes it inside, they won’t think to look inside of the tub.  Zombies aren’t that bright, you know?

Mbrotha:  Why would another zombie try to get to me?  I’m already a zombie.

Me:  How the fuck am I supposed to know?  It’s Zombiepocalypse!  Times are crazy!  Every zombie for themselves!  Or something.

Mbrotha:  Okay.  Well, you don’t have to worry about that because I’m not going to become a zombie. 

Me:  I sure hope not!

Mbrotha:  Go to sleep.

::five minutes later::

Me:  Look, if you’re so intent upon becoming one of the undead, I’d much prefer you contract the vampire virus. 

Mbrotha:  I’ll keep that in mind.

Me:  I’m A-okay with vampirism.

Mbrotha:  Great.

Me: But not werewolvism.  And not one of those creepy vamps from “30 Days of Night.”  I mean, we have to draw the line somewhere.

Mbrotha:  Right.

Me:  But if you want to be a vamp like Edward from Twilight?  I’m fully on board with that idea. 

Mbrotha:  So I can only be undead if I become a vampire? 

Me:  Correct. 

Mbrotha:  Okay, just so I’m clear. 

Me:  Great.  So, to recap.  Zombies and werewolves, hell no.  Vampires, hell yes. 

Mbrotha:  Mmhmm.

Me:  I feel better now that that’s settled. 

Mbrotha:  Good, I’m glad.  Go to sleep, love you.

Me:  Love you, too.  Night.

::The next morning::

Text message from Ali to Mbrotha:: 

Thank God you’re not a zombie.

One Comment to “Conversations with Mbrotha: V is for Vampirism”

  1. So wait Sis let me get this straight? So if and when mbrothah turns into a zombiein the zombie madness. You will still keep him? Even though you bashed his head in 38 times with an iron and hit him some more after? Whoa now that. That shitt right there that right there is love! !!

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