Upon visiting your mother, Martha, at the nursing home. You notice right away that things look a bit odd. There seems to be a bit more moaning and groaning than usual, and the staff has locked themselves in the day room.
Puzzled, you continue up the hallway to your mothers room and are outraged when you find the room totally trashed.
Both beds were placed across one corner of the room, and your mother, Martha, is sitting on the floor behind them knitting.
Leaning over you ask. "Mom are you okay?"
"Sure honey, but today really isn't a good day to visit." She rubs the blanket she is knitting. "The residents are a bit restless today." She begins to laugh to herself. "We had salad, and I'm afraid that didn't sit very well with Mel, he's more of a meat man."
You scratch your head wondering if she has completely lost her mind, although you know she's oriented times ten.
"Why are you huddled behind there like that?"
Looking coyly up at her daughter, "It's just safer that way my dear."
"Well I'm going to speak to the administrator about this immediately."
"Oh I wouldn't be doing that dear, she's the one that started this whole mess. She had an employee in her office when all hell broke loose. She was bitten on her arm and staggered out into the hallway and died. They called for an ambulance, but I'm afraid it was too late. By the time they arrived, she had already awakened and attacked them. Luckily the police arrived right behind them and used deadly force. They killed four zombies but four residents were infected, and I'm afraid the police didn't quite know what to do."
Your mouth opens with shock, and you struggled for words. "Why is that."
"Because dear they only have false teeth and every time they try to bit someone, they fall out."
"I saw the staff huddled in the day room."
"They are just a bunch of lazy bitches that don't want to do any work. If the zombies let them, they'd be out back smoking all day."
"If everything is so honkey dory then why are you hiding back there?"
"Well dear, once one of them latches onto your head it's weeks before you can unlatch them. Imagine that, having to use the bathroom while they just keep gumming you head like some kind of humping rabbit, it's so annoying."
Suddenly the door rips from its hinges and you are face-to-face with an old man with a walker.
"Brains ... brains ... brains," He mutters coming forward with his walker.
Your mother somersaults from where she once sat knitting, kicking the zombie in the stomach. He tumbles back and throws his walker at her. She continues to beat him like some kind of crazed ninja. Finally, he falls down, his mouth seeping a green gelatinous substance.
I look down at him and try pulling my mother from the room, as I move to leave, the zombie grabs my leg and my mother embeds her knitting needles into his eyes.
"That will teach him," your mother says smiling.
WARNING: DO NOT FOR ANY REASON LEAVE YOU DEFENSELESS PARENT IN A NURSING HOME WITHOUT PROPERLY ARMING THEM WITH KNITTING NEEDLES, AS ONE NEVER KNOWS WHEN OR WHERE A ZOMBIE INFECTION WILL OCCUR. THAT COURSE IN SELF DEFENSE YOU INSISTED SHE TAKE YEARS AGO NEVER HURT EITHER.