Attack!….of the Zombies pt. 1

Those bastards finally did it-they came at me in a bum rush and almost overtook me. Thank god I always check my 6 for bogies and managed to run off to the bus stop before they could get their claws on me.  My intention that evening was to check in on the true political types, the weekend warriors so to speak, that congregate on the side lawn of the State Capital to discuss matters of the Occupy Agenda and what that has grown into. The true street monsters that live on Broadway and Colfax 24/7 are part committed to the cause and part need to be committed. They are not part of the true street slime junkies that walk around with a permanent hacking cough, the ones that helped spread the outbreak of pink eye and scabies down here. The permanent zombies are the representatives most often viewed by the public that drive by, not the PC day job folks that meet every now and then in the park.

I began strolling around the park as I typically do, engaging zombie folk now and then, take a pic here, jot a note there, all for reference to add in my blog reports for accuracy.  Now and then I stumble into a circle of people smoking pot (not hard to do, they’re everywhere) and partake of some high octane weed. Since Denver has allowed medical marijuana the potency one can obtain is almost sinful. A picturesque photo moment, woodland junkies piping it in front of the State’s precious memorial. Spring has sprung and the zombies are like fat calves; they have plenty of food which now sits on the steps of a wall that leads to a memorial shrine honoring our fallen soldiers. Lots of weed is being smoked, people catching up on lost sleep, mission volunteers from local churches walking around providing sandwiches and the Word of God-the zombies take the sandwiches. I wanted to check in on one particular lady that they call Mama to see how her health was. She had been admitted to the hospital 4 or 5 days ago with a mild stroke and I was curious as to her condition. She now lies on the ground, too weak to sit on the half wall where she used to smoke cigarettes all day long, reaching out from her prone position in a sleeping bag, still puffing away. I had real hope for her. About a week ago she told me she was looking into subsidized housing to get off the street and get her life back in shape, maybe go back to her hometown of Longview, Texas. The way it looks now I don’t forsee that happening. She will more than likely be hauled off to the hospital again-her fourth time that I’ve counted. Her tank of oxygen rests on the curb next to her waiting for when she needs it.

I’ve got to stay objective, not get too personal. You don’t name or make friends with the animal you’re about to slaughter for food. Zombies should be treated with the same in that regard. Stick to observing them Dave or they’ll pull you into their insidious cabalah of drugs and festering boils. Get back up to the circle jerk of Occupy Denver protesters who discuss what civil actions the movement plans to undertake and let the public know their intentions. I begin to wander to the memorial where the Occupy discussion group was but as I’m leaving some kid wearing a poignant political tshirt is walking by me. I smile and ask him if I can take a picture of him in his shirt which causes him to look at me like I just shit in his shoe and he says “no, you can’t” Okay I thought, bad day on the wall, I can respect that. He then walks over to a gathering of some really wretched mongrels and works them into a frenzy, pointing at me and cursing under his breath. A moment later a dusty looking black man with really wild eyes walks up to me and gives me the showdown.

“You better not be taking my picture. I’ll go melee on your ass mother fucker. I don’t play that game.” I shrug him off and let him pass by while I work my way up to listen in on the armchair protesters. I thought that would be the last I heard from the hard core zombies that day/evening; I was wrong.


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