If Wishes Were Zombies

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They don't tell you that the apocalypse is going to stink. I don't mean stink in the way we say homework stinks or, oh your boyfriend was cheating on you with Margo Thomas, that really stinks. I mean, it smells. Dead, rotting bodies, decomposing in the hot sun, kind of stink. I mean, it's bad enough that the dead live to eat us, but they smell. Real bad. They don't tell you that. Not in the movies where they make fighting a horde of the living dead look awesome, which by the way it is not. Certainly not in television shows, where young, presumably widowed mothers have time to screw their dead husband's best friend, in the middle of the woods no less, with zombies stumbling all over the place. I don't know about you, but I don't find the overwhelming stench of rotting flesh, a turn on. They don't tell you that in Hollywood, because sex sells, and if it smelled in the zombie apocalypse, they wouldn't have the sex. Maybe if they had, I wouldn't have been so eager to wish it into existence

Ok, technically I didn't mean to wish it into existence. I just meant to wish Margo Thomas out of existence, which I wouldn't have had to do if she didn't have her tongue down my boyfriend's throat. She did though, and the thought popped into my head before I could stop it ... "I wish Margo would be eaten by zombies." Next thing I knew, zombies came tearing down the hall and ate Margo. They also ate my boyfriend ... and that little nerdy kid who was supposed to be in 4th grade, but was so smart, he'd jumped ahead a few grades. I guess he wont be giving the valedictorian speech after all. Worst of all, they ate Fred, which is why I am in this predicament. Fred is the reason I was able to wish the ZA in the first place, and without him, I don't know how to fix it.

Fred is ... Was, a genie. I found him in my Grandma's attic. He was inside a little bottle. Not like the one on I Dream of Genie, but one of those little bottles alcohol comes in at an honor bar. I opened it and out popped Fred. After he finished thanking me, because he was, you know, really cramped in there, he ran down the list of rules. Can't make anyone fall in love, can't grant me unlimited wishes, can't do anything that would change established history, and can't bring anyone back from the dead. Apparently that one doesn't preclude zombies.

So here I am, hiding out in the girl's bathroom, wondering just how I am going to get Fred back, when the bathroom door bangs open. At first I thought it was more zombies, having sniffed me out, and I was praying that the stall door was stronger than it looked, when I heard my name shouted into the room. Crap. It was worse than zombies. It was my Grandma ... And by the sound of her voice, no stall door was going to keep her out.

"Grandma, what are you doing here?" I asked, cracking open the door.

"Where is Fred?" Grandma asked.

"Fred?" I stammered.

"Don't get cute," she said, meaning don't be stupid, because her voice indicated she thought I was anything but cute. "Mr. Stanford was just eaten by zombies, and Fred is not in his bottle. I can put 2 plus 2 together Samantha. Where. Is. Fred?

Mr. Stanford is ... Was Grandma's boyfriend. He was kind of funny and he made Grandma laugh, so now I had another reason to feel bad about the ZA. My Grandma's laugh was magic and always took the sad feelings away. If Mr. Stanford was zombie chow, there would be no more Grandma laughing. And that could be a scary thing.

"A zombie ate him," I said.

"Do you know which one?"

"Miss. Taylor. She is ... Was my math teacher."

"Then come on girl. We have to find her and get Fred back."

"But she ate him."

"When I was younger," Grandma said, "my dog Petie ate Fred. I had to wait a few days, but eventually he showed back up. A little smelly, but no worse for the wear. Well, Fred was no worse for the wear. Poor Petie had an upset tummy for a week."

"Why did Petie eat Fred?" I asked.

"Because he didn't like Fred. That Trixter had turned our world upside down with his wish granting, and Petie had had enough of him. I miss that dog. He was just a little terrior, but he didn't let his size stop him. He knew Fred was bad news. When he pooped Fred out, I plucked that Genie up and popped him into that bottle right quick, before he had a chance to resize himself."

So following Grandma, we left the girl's bathroom and went in search of Miss Taylor, my former math teacher. The halls were quieter than they were when I had fled to the bathroom. There was the occasional sob from a student being ... Digested by zombies. There was the occasional moan of delight, as a zombie dined on brains a la carte. But the chaos of an hour ago was gone, most of the student body either having escaped the school, or been turned into a meal.

We walked past several zombies, one of whom I recognized as Margo Thomas. She just leered at me, but didn't come at me. None of the zombies did.

"What am I, chopped liver?" I asked. "Why aren't they attacking us?"

"This was your wish," Grandma said, "though why you would wish zombies, is beyond me. You are immune."

"Then why aren't they attacking you?"

"They wouldn't dare," Grandma said, giving Tommy Jones a stern glance as we strode by. He did like any reasonable zombie would do when Grandma gave him that look ... He turned and stumbled away.

"I hope we don't have to follow Miss Taylor around for a week," I said. Also, I really don't want to find out what zombie poop looks like.

"I have a quicker way," Grandma said, and pulled a knife out of her purse.

"Grandma!"

"A lady should never go anywhere without protection," Grandma said.

Just then we turned the corner and came face to face with Miss Taylor. She didn't look to well. I know she's a zombie, but even for a zombie, she looked rather green.

"Looks like Fred isn't sitting too well with her," Grandma said, putting her knife away. "This might be quicker than I thought."

"What do you mean," I asked, but just then I found out what she meant. Miss Taylor bent over and vomited. She didn't just vomit, she erupted, spewing zombie bile out of her gorge.

"I am not touching that " I said.

The gelatinous mess was slowly spreading across the floor. It bubbled and gurgled, it even curdled, and then an arm popped out of the mess. Then another arm. They were detached limbs, but they were moving. The one arm lifted a finger, advising for us to wait, and then reaches into the goo and pulled out a head. It was Fred's! The. The other hand snapped it's fingers and Fred was standing before us, whole genie once again.

"Hello Fred," Grandma said.

"Martha, is that you?" Fred looked Grandma up and down and then said, "But you've gotten old."

"That tends to happen when one ages and is mortal."

"Wait a minute," Fred said, looking around in alarm. "Where is Petie."

"Not here," Grandma said. "Now I believe you have a wish to fix."

"I gave Sam just what she asked for," Fred said. "Zombies are Margo Thomas."

"Samantha!" Grandma said.

"She was kissing Jake." I said, sounding defensive.

"So then you wish her into a toad, you don't wish for zombies. Which reminds me, whatever happened to Lizzie Carmichael."

"Who?"

"She was my brother's girlfriend. She broke his heart."

"Your grandma wished her into a toad."

"Grandma!"

"Let's not dwell on the past," Grandma said. "Now go ahead Samantha. Make your next wish, but do so carefully, because this Trixter will twist it if he can."

"I resent that," Fred said.

"I wish you would bring everyone back." I said. Miss Taylor, Margo Thomas, Jake, that little nerdy boy ... And get rid of all the zombies.

"No can do." Fred said.

"What do you mean?" Grandma and I both asked.

"I can't bring anyone back from the dead. You don't get deader than zombies."

"He's right," I moaned. "That's one of the rules."

"He also can't change established history," Grandma said. "Past or future history. Brian Moore had a bright future and I am sure has a place in history. The ZA does not

"Who?" Fred asked.

"The little nerdy boy," I said.

"Samantha, think carefully and make your wish."

So I thought. I thought hard, about the past, and the future. And then I had it.

"I wish we could go back to earlier today," I said. "Before I made my wish."

And then just like that, I was standing in the hallway again before first period, watching Margo Thomas checking out my boyfriends tonsils. I forced all thought out of my head. I didn't want to accidentally wish something else, something worse than the ZA. I wasn't sure what that could be, but I'm sure there is a worse.

"Excuse me," Brian Moore said, pushing past me. I barely noticed him. I couldn't take my eyes off of Margo and Jake. It hurts, but not as much as it did the first time I saw them together. Then I wondered why I could remember everything that had happened.

"Make a wish," Fred whispered in my ear. "You still have one left. I can turn her into a toad."

"No. Grandma's right. I'm smarter than that. They aren't worth it."

"But you still have a wish."

Miss Taylor stood in her doorway, talking to Mr. Brown. The bell was going to ring any minute and we had a math test today. I was bad at math

"You can wish for an A in your test," Fred said.

I thought about it. Really, I did.

"It you could wish for riches. Your grandma struggles to take care of you. It would make life so much easier."

I thought about it. I thought about all the things I could wish for,but remembered something Grandma had said about worlds being turned upside down and Petie knowing Fred for who he was.

"I wish ..."

"Yes?"

"I wish you were back in that bottle in Grandma's attic."

And then Fred was gone.

I broke up with Jake. I got a C on my math test. And when I went home that day, Grandma had Mr. Stanford over for dinner, and Grandma spent the whole evening laughing. Somehow her laugh made my heart ache a little less. Then Mr. Stanford left and Grandma and I went up to the attic. Turns out, she remembers everything that happened too. We took the bottle outside and buried it as deep into the ground as we could. I'm sure one day, someone will dig Fred up and make a wish. But I'm not going to make it easy for them.