HUNTSVILLE, TX – Shop owners and patrons on Sam Houston Blvd. were shocked Monday morning to discover what could only be described as a “zombie” wandering aimlessly down the middle of the street. Although the zombie was swiftly dispatched by local law enforcement, citizens were perplexed by the lack of subsequent zombie proliferation they assumed would follow, resulting in chaos and, ultimately, tragedy.
At 10:45 A.M., Susan Jameson, 53 (49 at the time of her initial demise), self-excavated from her “eternal” resting place in the Stephen F. Austin memorial cemetery and shambled towards Main Street. Claire Hawkins, manager of the Jameson Jewelry Store on Sam Houston, noted that Jameson may have been wandering towards the jewelry store that she used to own. “I’ll tell you this right now, I bought that store fair and square after Suzie choked on that corn dog at the state fair,” declared Mrs. Hawkins, “and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna give it back to her just because she raised up from the dead.”
Officer Bradley Timpkin of the Huntsville Police Department arrived on the scene in response to several reports of blocked traffic. Following standard protocol, Timpkin ordered the mud-covered zombie out of the street and back into the grave. When she failed to comply, Officer Timpkin drew his weapon and repeated the order at a higher volume again and again as the zombie walked up and bit him on the arm. Timpkin managed to shake off the attacker, firing several rounds of ammunition into her torso to no effect. One of the witnesses suggested Timpkin“shoot her in the head,” which he did, laying the zombie to rest yet again.
Following the incident, several witnesses began shouting “Zombie apocalypse!” at which point many citizens dispersed to their respective basements and safe houses to gather stored quantities of sharp weapons, water, guns and ammunition. They reconvened only to find that no other zombies seemed to have escaped from the graveyard or proliferated as a result of Mrs. Jameson’s above-ground episode. Even Timpkin showed no signs of severe injury or zombification as a result of his assault.
Unfortunately, this didn’t stop the townspeople from debating whether to put the young officer “out of his misery” by shooting him in the head and burning his corpse.
“No, guys, it’s alright, I’m fine!” Timpkin said. “Look, the bleeding stopped and everything.”
“That’s exactly what a brain-eating zombie would say!” proclaimed Joel Daggett, a local taxidermist who claims to have been “mentally preparing” for a scenario such as this in which to demonstrate his leadership skills. “We just gotta shoot him in the head right now, and then I’ll lead a ragtag group of us through a zombie-infested wasteland! Sure, we’ll lose some people along the way, but we’ll learn a lot about ourselves and each other in the process!”
Unbelievably, a majority of the townspeople seemed to agree with this plan, despite all evidence that the situation had been successfully diffused. That’s when 32-year-old diner waitress Darla Plasky shot Officer Timpkin in the face, killing him instantly.
After a moment of stunned silence, the townspeople erupted in cheers, firing their weapons into the air and setting out to sweep the city for more zombies. As the day passed, however, it became apparent that there were no more undead targets to kill and that, as a result, they would not have the opportunity to grow as people. Deflated, they returned to their respective homes.
“I just don’t understand it,” Daggett said in an interview with the Item. “Why would the lord God Almighty only bring one person back from the dead? Well two, counting Jesus. I guess three with Lazarus, but you get what I’m sayin’. Now I’ll never save a pretty lady from her undead husband zombie, thereby winning her heart and eternal devotion!” Daggett then became surly and walked back into his parent’s house.
Huntsville police also expressed their disappointment with the situation. “I just don’t know what to think,” Sheriff Dan Boyle said. “We were all set to barricade the jail doors and join with the inmates to turn the zombies away, at which point we’d realize that cops and criminals have more in common than we originally thought.” The Sherriff is currently working with deputies to investigate whether neighboring towns have experienced any zombie sightings.
Long-time Huntsville resident Patrick “Patsy” Stoonberger locked himself in a grain silo at the outset of the incident, determined to ride out the “invasion” in solitude. Having freed himself soon after hearing the “coast is clear” call on his CB radio, Patsy expressed similar feelings of regret:
“How am I ever supposed to learn the true value of human companionship if I don’t spend months or even years locked away by myself, with only flowers and dust to interact with? How can I get in touch with my repressed feelings and discover my inner strength if I don’t even have a chance to befriend a dog slowly over the course of many weeks only to have him die protecting me from a rogue zombie?”
Even Susan Jameson’s two-time widower, Bert Jameson, had mixed emotions. “I really have no idea why she did it,” he said of his late, late wife’s recent resurrection. “Then again I never knew why she did anything a’tall. You know what they say—you can’t live with’em, can’t keep them from reanimating once their dead,” he chuckled.
But the deepest wounds may belong to Maybelle Timpkin, the young widow of fallen Officer Timpkin. “At first I was excited. I thought, here’s my chance to make somethin’ of myself. I even cleared out space in the barn where I was gonna keep Bradley on a chain and feed him stray childrens’ brains. I thought, hey, we could have a zombie baby, you know? I’ve always wanted a special needs child.”
But now those dreams, and so many others like them, are dashed. In their place lies a resounding emptiness. A sad, hollow desolation. A chasm of dreams deferred and potential unfulfilled that will haunt this small Texas town for generations to come. “Guess it’s time to pick up the pieces and get on with our lives,” said Claire Hawkins from behind the jewelry counter. “What else can we do?”