the zombie/alien invasion

leftover enchiladas, fruit salad, a donut, late night glass of milk.

We are abroad, probably in England. There is an epidemic, turning people into zombies, and then it turns out that it is all a prelude to an alien invasion. We are at some sort of theme park when I first encounter an alien ship. A fake “island adventure” environment, built upon a hill with snaking roads, a maze of artificial canyons and alleyways. When the ship appears, people scatter in total panic. I know this is happening all over the world, and we need to get home.

Somehow, we arrive back in Albuquerque. At my parents, and the house is also slightly larger and has boarders living there. One of them, an older woman, has been infected, though she seems to slide from relative lucidity to zombie zone and back. I'm trying to explain to my father that we're not SAFE anymore here, that we need to pack what we can and go. Not only because there's a near-zombie living in the house, but because of the invasion, too. I even call 911 and get a suprisingly together operator to talk to me. “We've been out of the country,” I tell him, “so I don't know all what's going on. But what does one DO when aliens attack one's country?” He makes some suggestions about finding a shelter that is accepting people, etc etc. The alien ship is coming, and either they take over the phone lines or are using a PA system, somehow broadcasting a very ridiculing message about no escape and so on.

I begin to pack up my parents' car, and someone has been hoarding, thank god. There are bags and bags and boxes and boxes of many of my favorite cereals (Chex! All different flavors!) and when I wonder about milk, I look back into the back of the pantry and there are many boxes of powdered. Better than nothing. There are also at least 20 large bricks of Whitecap lard. I don't take any of those to the car, and I realize that probably this stuff was hoarded by the old lady, not my parents. But hey, she don't need it.

I hear a ruckus in the living room, and find someone-- is it my mom? someone-- wrestling with the old lady zombie. They seem to be fighting over a cushion for the piano bench, and maybe the piano, too. Somehow, we are able to reach the old woman intellectually, explain that with the invasion, we can't be wasting time on fights. She conceeds, and I think does a quick song and dance number of some sort. I realize that my parents intend to bring her along when we go, but I am very seriously against it. She's becoming more rotton and zombified every hour. Her face is already a ruined, rotting mess. I try to convince them.

I go back out to the car, and find all of the stock I stored there in the back seat is gone-- the window smashed in. Looted. The ships are coming, mayhem spreads before them. Luckily I hadn't nearly finished loading the car with supplies, but that was probably all of the cereal. Fucking pisses me off, but I do understand.