The setting: A cocktail party at the old Dark Horse Theater in Duluth.
In attendance: my parents, former baseball superstar Tony Gwynn and about 25 strangers.
The only thing I remember before the zombie part is that, while it was exciting to meet Tony Gwynn, I had nothing to say to him. "Hey, nice job hitting the baseballs," was about the best thing I could come up with, so I just said nothing.
Suddenly, I started to notice that more and more people at the party were developing pale skin and wild, bloodshot eyes. One of them was my mother. She came over and told me she was going to turn me into a zombie too.
I told her I didn't want to be a zombie, but she started pointing out all the benefits of becoming a zombie, and it started to sound pretty good.
Then I noticed my dad wasn't a zombie yet. I asked my mom about this. "Oh, your father is so stubborn," she told me. "He never wants to do anything fun."
My dad came over and told me that, while it's fun to be a zombie, it's also important to be responsible. "Do you think Tony Gwynn could have won all those batting titles if he was zombified all the time?"
"Probably not," I said, "but at least zombies have something to talk about."
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