A Nightmarish Birthday

Last night we joined my parents to help celebrate my mom’s birthday. We brought presents and a camera, and our cake-appetites, but we weren’t prepared for the carnage that was about to torment us.

Upon our arrival we were met by a hungry baby Zombie. The Zombie was playful at first, but that just gave us a false sense of security. Alcoholic beverages oozing with Bailey's goodness eased our minds for a short time - but reality was about to set in.

Running around the house growling “baby Zombie! baby Zombie!”, the undead toddler began to grow restless. He attacked in a more forceful manner, head-butting the party guests, hoping to knock them unconscious so that he could dine on jugulars at his leisure.

We fought back valiantly against the hungry baby Zombie. He grasped and stretched, but found himself unable to reach our tender necks. Grandpa unwittingly picked him up, only to find baby Zombie hungry for wrinkled skin. The carnage was put on hold when the birthday cake came out. Baby Zombie was distracted by the candles, which he loves to blow out. After a few re-lights, Grandma was able to finally blow out her own candles. But Zombie baby got the last laugh by ramming his 2-year-old fingers into the cake, hoping for a handful of icing.

I was able to distract the lil’ Zombie by showing him his own mop of curly hair in a mirror. “Me afo baby!” came the shouts of joy. Yes, Afro baby indeed.

But it didn’t last long. Zombie baby’s final act of agression left his only brother lying dead on the floor. Thankfully “Pencha” was revived by the magic of Chocolate Lucky Charms. After a breif sugar-high, an announcement was made: time to go home!

The two cranky boys crankily cried their way to the front door where their boots were pulled onto their crankified feet. With the tiny Zombie and his older brother headed home, grandma was happy she would live to celebrate another birthday.