The back of my house borders fifteen acres of woods; and if the weather is nice sitting on our deck in the cool of evening can be quite pleasant.
Me: For some reason, every time I look at those woods I half expect to see a zombie lumbering out of the underbrush.
Friend 1: You know, if that happened, I’d probably take a dump right here in my pants.
Me: I’d probably dash up to my closet, briefly pausing at the top of the stairs to thank the Lord that the day I’d long prepared had finally arrived.
Friend 2: What would we use to board up the sliding glass door?
Mrs. Ahab: The dining room table could work pretty well, and we could use the wood from the deck to board up the windows.
Friend 2: Would I have time to go back and get my cats?
Me: Rule Number 1 of a Zombie Apocalypse: No returning for pets.
I don’t remember what we talked about after that, but that’s why I love our friends. A conversation about the eventual Zombie Apocalypse fits quite nicely into regular conversation.