I think Friday’s are going to be dedicated to zombies. More specifically, I will be sharing the “posts” from the Zomblog series. So, if you’ve never taken the journey…today is a good place to start. And remember, I am open to discussing with any potential film students the possibility of turning this into a class project…web series…whatever. So, if you might be interested, drop a line to firstname.lastname@example.org. Put “ZOMBLOG” in the subject line. And now, welcome to the apocalypse.
Saturday, December 29
Greetings. My name is Samuel Todd. I live in a suburb of a fairly large northwestern city. I am the guy who delivers your papers early in the wee hours of the morning and I gotta say…you see some pretty hairy shit in the middle of the night when all the “normal” folks are in bed. I’ve been a fan of the internet since Q-Link, that may give away my age but that’s cool. So, I finally decided to start a blog. With some of the stuff I’ve seen, hell…I thought about writing a book, but I don’t have the— What is it that writers have? (Besides talent smarty pants) Determination? Drive? Stick-to-it-iveness. Yep. That’s it. Instead, I’ve decided to just ramble on and share my odd adventures and observations. A few things about me. I’m single. Well, actually, I’m divorced. Twice. I have a daughter from marriage number two. Elizabeth Marie. She goes by Beth, has since she was seven. She’s an insane fourteen this most recent December 15th. Every year for her birthday, I get the guys in our little band “The Stupid Muses” together. We put the phone on speaker and I sing that KISS song, Beth. It’s cheesy, but I still get away with it due to it being tradition. The first three years I did it in our garage. Mine and Erin’s (Erin is Elizabeth’s mom). My daughter would sit on the washing machine with her little hands clasped under her chin and just beam. Her curly dark brown hair framed her perfectly oval face and those hazel eyes actually sparkled. I’m drifting off the deep end, aren’t I? Sorry, but when it comes to daddy’s little girl, I get a bit misty.
In a nutshell, that is my life. Besides delivering the newspaper, I play guitar and sing in a small-time band. Mostly we do parties, reunions and stuff. It doesn’t pay much, but I make enough to get by and still keep up on my child support. Erin never trips if I’m late. She knows I’m good for it. She and I still get along okay. When it comes to Elizabeth, our little Beth, differences are set aside. It’s not our daughter’s fault that her parents couldn’t spend longer than an hour together without verbally shredding each other. Anyways, it’s getting late so I gotta get to the Center and get my load of papers. I picked today to start this blog because the craziest shit is on New Year’s and full moons. Check with me tomorrow and hopefully I’ll have something juicy. .
Tuesday, January 1
Holy crap! What a night I’ve had! This is why I decided to start blogging… I arrived at just after 2:30 a.m. to pick up the papers for my route. We had two no-shows so Gabriel (this old Mexican who has been delivering papers for like 20 years!) and I split the routes which was kind of a drag. But it happens every year. That is one thing you folks who walk out in your jammies and scoop up your paper each day don’t realize. Even more than the mailman, we HAVE to deliver despite rain, sleet, snow…or drunken no-shows. Some folks say that the internet is killing the daily paper. I think that’s a load of crap. Nothing replaces flippin’ to your favorite section over a steaming cup of coffee. Plus, I love me some Get Fuzzy. Anyways, I load up and check the extra route list so I can economize my trip as much as possible. The cost of gas is what will kill the morning paper way before the internet does. I roll out and pass the annual DUI parade complete with flashing lights and circus clowns trying in utter futility to pass field sobriety tests. I pull into this apartment complex. Real nice sorta upscale place. I get out to unload about ten papers at the office/rec center and hear this noise coming from one of the covered parking lots. Sure as hell, one of our local television news team has herself bent over the hood of this shiny silver Lexus. I recognize her right away only because it is the station I always watch as I’m eating dinner. Her milky white skin practically glows in the dark! And the words coming out of her mouth are a drunken slur of everything she can’t say in front of the camera at 5 and 6:30 p.m.! I am tuning in tonight for sure with a whole new perspective! Other than that…saw loads of drunks pissing in dark corners, a good share of teenage kids puking (happy freakin’ New Year!) and one nasty accident that signaled the end of the line for at least one idiot. So here’s a question—what possesses folks after all the stats, stories and movies-of-the-week to still get behind the wheel of a car and crank it up after getting looped? If drunk drivers were charged with murder, would it deter anybody? People argue that murder has to be done with forethought. Ain’t nobody goes out and ties one on by mistake. Well, I’ve got a day of Bowl games to watch. My babygirl, Beth, she’s bringing her new boyfriend over to watch the games with dad. That’s the closest thing to a date she’s gonna get…at least until she turns sixteen. I plan on doing a lot of cheering…and glaring.
Wednesday, January 2
Simple question. What the hell is wrong with kids these days? When I went to a girlfriend’s parents’ house… I was a damned saint. “Yes sir.” “No ma’am.” “Lovely house, Mrs. Casteel.” “How ‘bout them Blazers?” This kid was using his tongue like a dipstick in my daughter’s throat. ON! MY! COUCH! I stood there like an idiot for like ten seconds! Now I’m the asshole. Can you believe it? Is our society that far gone? If it is, somebody please hit the RESET button.