It’s not love.
It’s not the delicious scent of barbecue.
It’s not even all the sweat I’ve left behind from all my running.
“It’s Zombie Rot,” Dawn Nicotero, Director of The Maine Zombie Authority, explained to this utterly disgusted Modern Philosopher. “It plagues us every Summer, and since August has gotten off to such a scorching start, the stench has arrived early.”
Nicotero tried to play it off as a joke by spraying a can of air freshener, but since we both had gas masks at the ready, it was hard to turn this into a laughing matter.
Who doesn’t love the Witches, Gargoyles, Werewolves, Aliens, Angels, Leprechaun, and Lucifer himself?
But if you want to enjoy all those beings, you also have to put up with the Zombies.
“We’ve done an excellent job of keeping Maine’s Zombie population out of the state’s heavily populated areas,” Nicotero explained once we were inside her office and the air conditioner was blasting cold, scentless air. “Cases of Death by Zombie declined significantly this year, to the lowest levels since The Maine Zombie Authority was created.”
As you know, Maine is patrolled by Certified Zombie Hunters and Zombie Census Bureau Agents, whose job is to track the Zombie herds, keep them away from Mainers, and thin out their numbers without causing a catastrophic change to Maine’s overall environment.
Yes, Modern Philosophers, even Zombies have some rights.
If you don’t like that, take it up with the All Hallows Society.
Yeah, I didn’t think you’d want to say anything.
No one in his right mind would want to mess with the mysterious hooded members of the powerful secret organization that polices Maine’s Otherworldly Being population.
It’s a natural process that speeds up in the Summer heat, and the stench of rotting flesh and internal organs is something your nose will never grow accustomed to, regardless of how long you live in Maine.
Maine Zombie Authority Agents are constantly cleaning up body parts left behind as a herd migrates. Zombie Rot only gets worse when the herd is on the move.
“All that trudging, mixed with the unrelenting Summer sum, speeds up the rot. That’s why we’re finding more arms, intestines, and eye balls left behind once the herd clears an area.”
How would you even explain that on your resume? Would it even be possible to ever get the smell off of you?
“Maine Zombie Authority Agents are well compensated for their service,” Nicotero volunteered as if she had read my mind. “Plus Alien technology has given us a cleaning process that allows agents to come out smelling like roses at the end of their shifts.”
I might want to try that special Alien shower after one of my weekend runs.
“The good news, Austin, is that this heat wave is about to break,” a bubbly Stormy McBlizzardton, Maine’s top meteorologist, told me when I visited him before the evening newscast. “The bad news is that we’re expecting rainstorms with severe winds, thunder, lightning, and hail.”
Not exactly ideal conditions for a Summer beach day, but more than acceptable for scrubbing our scorched earth clean of the Zombie stench.
“There’s a chance that the high winds might blow the Zombie herds in Southern Maine into New Hampshire,” Stormy chuckled.
Say a prayer for the brave men and women of The Maine Zombie Authority.
They’re going to be working their tails off tonight in horrible weather conditions to keep us safe. If they can put up with a night like this, then I think we can all put up with the stink of Zombie Rot for one more day.
After all, that’s why some brilliant person invented the gas mask, right?