The Real Walking Dead

The Real Walking Dead


The next time the casting director for The Walking Dead does an open call for extras, he needs to look no further than the new parent community. I think we should audition as a group, because we are the real walking dead.

Just think of the money the show could save on hair and make-up. Our eyes are infinitely blood shot with permanent black bags underneath. Our hair is the perfect balance of greasy and messy.

Anyone who’s nursing a newborn has that gaunt, ‘I-haven’t-eaten-a-real-meal-in-weeks’ look that seems so popular in the zombie apocalypse era. New moms have that drawn look down pat as we manage to subsist solely on Ritz crackers while our beasts suck every viable nutrient from our bodies.

Leah Remini would be our leader. Apparently, her four year old still wakes up at least six times per night for a bottle. She says her and her husband have become zombies, so she could coach us on the art of Method acting. Her techniques would probably involve teaching us to re-experience our reality over and over and over again in order to create a realistic performance.

Oh wait a minute. We’re already experts in that department after weeks, months, and in some cases, years of getting up all through the night to feed, rock and change our babies. So I guess we don’t need Leah after all.

She IS a Scientologist though, so she’s got the sci-fi thing going for her. Maybe we could keep her around so she could tell us all about that and we could make fun of her behind her back.

Sigh…I guess I could be our courageous leader then…twist my bossy, controlling, rubber arm…why don’tcha.

I would teach the fine art of the zombie walk. I have pregnant sciatica, so my limp can’t be beat. Basically, you need to believe you have two working legs. But then, when you stand up, you have to immediately fall down when you put any weight on the side that has sciatica.

You don’t fall to the floor though. Your pride (and your good leg) kick in and won’t let you hit the ground. This creates a most impressive limp the casting director could not overlook.

We would be paid in a steady stream of triangle sandwiches and naps—the equivalent of gold to an under nourished, sleep deprived parent. It wouldn’t take long until we’d be back to our well-rested, well-fed selves again. But wait a sec…

Then…we’d lose our zombie jobs…

Oh never mind, we could just re-audition in 15 years when our kids are horny, belligerent teenagers who keep us up all night while they gallivant all over God-knows-where with God-knows-who well past curfew.

Now THOSE parents are the REAL walking dead.


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