Summary
On the fifth day after I became a zombie, I knocked on my front door.
Mom froze for a moment, then smacked me on the head.
“That’s what you get for not watching where you’re going. Look at you-all bruised and battered from a fall.”
She leaned closer, sniffed, and wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“How many days has it been since you bathed? You smell rancid.”
“Honestly, child! You’re filthy!”
“Just like your father.”