Marcel Winatschek

Five Things Before the Zombie Gets Me

Sunday did what Sundays do: nothing, slowly. I finished reading about Napoleon’s life and various merits, spent the afternoon wandering Undercity with my sweet undead princess Sune, had some rounds of ICQ, and caught School of Rock on TV. That was the whole day. It was enough.

The night before I’d stayed at a friend’s place, and Irina’s howling kept me awake for what felt like hours. Lying there in the dark I started building a list—five things before I die, before I end up slack-jawed and shuffling like Napoleon in whatever afterlife he stumbled into. Invent a word, one that ends up somewhere without my name attached. Sleep with Siamese twins. Have my own TV channel. Eat that eight-thousand-calorie burger I’d read about online. And have a daughter named Nami.

That’s the list. Going to sleep now.