It’s almost Halloween, so I thought I’d post this.
Last week we went out for my friend’s birthday. I drank a lot of Scotch. I don’t drink Scotch much anymore; I just kind of lost my taste for it, I guess.
Anyhow, something got into me and I drank Scotch. Scotch on the rocks. We went to John Stevens in Fells Point and they are not stingy when it comes to the Scotch. I had two water glasses full of Scotch and minimal rocks.
Anyhow, that night when I was asleep I had a really scary dream about zombies. It was at typical horror-movie apocalyptic end of the world dream about almost everybody turning into zombies and just a few of us doughty humans left to defend ourselves. But I am REALLY scared of zombies.
In the dream I was holed up in an old mill, of all things, with a few close friends and an assortment of people we’d just met as a result of the Zombiecaust. The zombies were only really able to annoy us at night, and even then they were photophobic, so all we had to do was aim our flashlights at them and they’d scram. Anyhow, most of the dream was spent fending the zombies off and trying to figure out how to kill them (Eventually we discovered the old Shoot-'Em-In-the Head-Routine worked just fine.) But it was pretty scary nonetheless.
The point of all of this is, I haven’t had a scary dream about zombies since the last time I drank a lot of Scotch, which was probably about 1981 or 1982. I can only conclude that drinking a lot of Scotch makes me dream of zombies.
I’m laying off the Scotch.
