If you’re a zombie fanatic, you might know that Pittsburgh is pretty much a Babylon for enthusiasts of the staggering undead. Night of the Living Dead and Dawn of the Dead were both filmed nearby, considering George Romero (and Tom Savini) is from the area. Monroeville Mall (the mall from Dawn of the Dead) even has a small (but growing!) zombie museum inside a collectible toy store. The proprietor of the museum sent out a Facebook invitation to a zombie car wash which was going to be held in the mall parking lot.
Chooch is really into zombies; this isn’t a newsflash to anyone. He expressed interest in attending the car wash, but I kept having flashbacks to his zombie birthday party when seeing Bill all made-up into a walking corpse freaked Chooch out so bad that he scrambled into the car and cowered on the floor under the steering wheel. The whole way to the mall, Henry and I prepped him.
“You know it’s not real, right?”
“They’re just people with make-up on.”
“It’s for charity so don’t fuck this up!”
The proceeds of the car wash went to the Animal Rescue League, so it was even more incentive to go out and support the zombie laborers.
Chooch was a little taken aback for the first few seconds, but then found true love in the form of a Bettie Page-esque zombie-girl in a bloodied white dress. She kept staggering over to his window while we sat in the line of cars awaiting our team. He was completely smitten.
This dude was sincerely freaking me out. He was wearing coveralls that said “Jake.” If you’re ever in the market for an intimidating tune-up, you should hire him.
I kept saying, “Look, he’s one of Blake’s friends” and I bet Blake would have pissed if he was there. “WHY BECAUSE HE LOOKS SCENE AND I’M SUPPOSED TO KNOW ALL SCENE KIDS?” is what I can hear Blake yelling. He gets so angry at my stereotyping!
Can you imagine if zombies were real? Chooch would be like the Holy Grail of victims. They’d take one look at his melon-head and get boinging appetite hard-ons at the thought of the mother-whompin’ brain inside there.
Later that night, I was sitting inside Pixie’s car waiting for Jessy. I was telling her about the zombie car wash and then glanced over at my car which was parked next to hers.
“They didn’t do a very good job,” I murmured, noticing streaks of baked bird shit.
“Fuckin’ zombies,” Pixie spat.