zombie apocalypse

Nate gave me a book for my birthday, Zombie Haiku, which I absolutely adore.  (And not, I swear, just because of its introduction:  "To whoever might find this, my name is Chris Lynch, and I'm pretty sure I'm dying.  In fact, if you are reading this, then I'm probably already dead.  Not that anyone will be around to read this... from what I've seen, I'd guess this is the end of everything."  Weird, right?)

But really I love this book for the haiku, and for its great potential for being read out loud (as Erica and I discovered one evening while nursing margaritas at The Seven Lounge, killing time till other friends arrived):

Little old ladies
speed away in their wheelchairs,
frightened meals on wheels.

Shotguns don't scare me,
which explains why I chased him,
and why I'm one-eared.

Biting into heads
is much harder than it looks.
The skull is feisty.

He is screaming words,
but I don't understand him
since I have his tongue.

(Also, Bellingham, home to the above Zombie Apocalypse, pretty much rocks.)