I'm officially a half-armed zombie

Slowly they moved, seemingly without a thought in their heads. It seemed they had no real direction or destination.

Listlessly they groaned, bumping into one another. Even if I made a noise, would they notice me? Suddenly, I got my answer when the group, walking 5-wide in front of me stopped without notice. The mouse, the messiah had caught their flat, dead eyes. The grouping shifted direction, with a low, guttural moan they wandered away. I said, "Excuse me" as I veered around them. They paid me no mind.

They had no mind to pay.

Theme-park zombies care not for others.

After we hit the theme restaurant with the moving gorillas and leopards, the rodent and princess store with all their "sale" items and the mega store of all that is hot and of the musical variety we had virtually left 1/2 an arm behind.

I quickly bought myself a mouse backscratcher, mouse toothbrush and mouse flash drive and fashioned them into a shiv like I was a fairytale McGuyver. I grabbed a fluorescent pink mouse bandana and tied it around my head like I was John Rambo. With the one full arm I had left I fought my way to the parking lot, shanking and slashing mindless, money dropping zombies left and right. Somehow I managed to hold on to my precious purchases, still in their brightly colored bags.

As I climbed into my American-made rental car, screaming child in tow, I looked in the mirror at my own flat, dead eyes. In the backseat my kids screamed, blood-curdling again. Suddenly, a stuffed mouse smacks me in the head and whines, "Dreams really do come truuuuuuuue."

Mother fucker.

Tomorrow, we hit the kingdom that boasts of all it's awesome magicalness.

Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.