Invite a Zombie to dinner
It wasn’t the half-eaten heads littering her backyard that upset Grandma. Nor the splintered backdoor. It was the bad manners. "Ugg!" shuddered Grandma. She retrieved her lace fan from her bag and with a disgusted look on her face, cooled herself. "Those unruly zombies ate with their hands. There is no call for them to be eating with their hands at all. I shall teach them the benefits of knives, forks, and napkins." "Grandma, I don't think zombies are interested in improving their table manners." "Pish," she said. "They are in dire need of training." Pointing her fan at me, "I am appointing you as my Aide-de-Camp. Go get the bear traps and shotguns. We are going recruiting students." I scrunched up my face, "What's an Aide-de-Camp, Grandma?" "It's a fancy name for a ten-year-old granddaughter helping her grandmother catch zombies." I couldn't help but smile. Me, an Aide...