Acupuncture After The Apocalypse

I Put The Word

    1. Levi won the election.
    2. I wrote Beefcake’s concession speech. I put the word “beef” into it twice, just to amuse myself.
    3. Levi ate the cinnamon rolls with me the other morning. We hugged fourteen times in a half-hour. That’s all the time we had together, as he was still campaigning.
    4. It snowed today. Forty-seven flakes dotted the windshield of my BMW as I drove to work. My wipers swept them aside, and thus endeth the first snowstorm.
    5. Beefcake hasn’t showed up at our strip mall today.
    6. His zombies are missing.
    7. There was a movement to allow zombies to vote in this election. The effort wasn’t led by them, since they don’t speak. The zombies probably would have been allowed, if they had registered, but to register you have to show proof of an address. Zombies don’t have addresses. I’m not sure they were aware there was an election.
    8. Yesterday, I saw a zombie on our block eating what looked like a radish.
    9. I hope like hell that that really was a radish.
    10. Griffin is all over the news today. His photo is on the front page of the one newspaper that remains in print, and I saw him on television with Levi. I miss my dog.

Jill Riddell is a writer in Chicago. She teaches at the School of the Art Institute and has a weakness for nature, magic, and pennies abandoned in sidewalk cracks.