After two days of temperatures in the 40s, Maine stank like an abattoir from the inevitable Zombie thaw.
Even with my stuffed up nose, I could still smell the stench of rotting flesh that filled the air and forced Governor LePage to issue a strongly worded gas mask advisory.
We were finally able to remove our gas masks at 10:00am, but it wasn’t like the smell of death and spoiled leftovers had miraculously vanished entirely.
“That stink is going to be with us for a few more days,” Dr. Edith Romero, the Head of the Zombie Studies Department at the University of Maine in Orono, warned this Modern Philosopher. “Keep your mask handy. There are Zombie herds that normally Winter in the North Woods that are now roaming close to populated areas in the County. Until the Zombie Hunters and Zombie Census Agents can shepherd those wayward flocks back where they belong, the stench will be on the Winter wind.”
During Maine’s harsh Winters, our Zombie population slows down to a state of near hibernation as frigid wind chills and heavy snows mess with the already out of whack Zombie metabolism. The herds tend to stay in the densely wooded areas of the state, especially the North Woods and the extremely perilous Western Woods.
Maine Zombie Census Agents continue to track the herds as usual, but there is little to no movement during January and February. It is extremely rare to see a Zombie anywhere near a populated area after the New Year, and while Mainers remain armed at all times to dispatch the undead, it’s fairly safe to let down your guard until about March.
After wind chills of 30 below last week, we had two days of temperatures in the 40s. That drastic 70 degree fluctuation caused some unexpected problems with the Zombies.
“The Zombsicles, which is what we call the Winterized version of our brain craving population, suddenly began to thaw. And they did it wicked quick,” explained Maine Zombie Hunter Ben Cyr, who is assigned to a Zombie Census patrol in the North Woods.
“It was kinda like what you’d expect if you put frozen, rotten meat in the microwave on high for twenty minutes,” Cyr went on to paint a vivid picture. “You think it smells bad down in Bangor? Just imagine what it was like at ground zero!”
Dr. Romero tried to explain the science, but listening to her complicated jargon made me want to strangle myself with my toga. The gist of it was that the undead aren’t supposed to be defrosted at light speed. If they don’t thaw out slowly over the course of Winter turning to Spring, you get air that stinks like someone blew up a thousand diarrhea filled porta potties that had been wrapped in rotten meat and left out in the sun for a month.
Meteorologists have promised no more 70 degree temperature swings, so once the air finally clears of the Zombie thaw, all should be well.
I’ve got scented candles burning in every room of The House on the Hill, and I destroyed the clothes I wore for the past two days. No washing machine was ever going to get the stench out of them.
Winter is still in the air, along with a stink that I will never learn how to unsmell…