My Inner Zombie is stirring. Groaning. Muttering and mumbling. It’s pointing long, ravaged, pointy fingers at me as though it has something important it wants to say. Or me to say. It’s hard to tell with Inner Zombies what they actually DO want. It’s also hard to tell if they are male or female, so the generic ‘it’ must be used. In a kind way. You don’t want to annoy an Inner Zombie. Although how you would know that you’ve annoyed an Inner Zombie is a challenge in itself. Perhaps it’s due to all of the groaning, muttering and mumbling they tend to do… but they do that when they are happy as well, so it’s hard. We’ll leave it at that.
Only, we can’t. My Inner Zombie has something very important to point out… it’s still pointing, you see. Oh, now it isn’t. I think its finger has fallen off.
That’s a bit of a flaw with Zombies. Bits of them fling here, there and everywhere when you least expect it. It’s now doing something else…
With its other hand, it has unscrewed a lightbulb from a socket, and has stuck its finger into the place where the bulb was. It has reached over to the light switch (for something so ‘delicate’ – for want of a better word – they have a very good reach!) and has switched it on. After allowing the electricity to curse through its body for a few seconds, it has switched it off again.
Smoke escaping from countless holes all over the Zombie’s body, it still looks at me. It acts out the electricity cursing through its body again, not a pleasant sight, and points to the light fitting and the switch.
“What are you…?” I ask within my mind (I’m talking to my Inner Zombie here, don’t forget!) and it dawns on me… WATT. It’s trying to ask a question.
“Watt what?” I ask.
It has attached its pointing finger again, and is pointing.
“Watt point”… I gather. “What point. What point of what?”
There goes the finger again, however, it is still holding it’s hand as though it is still pointing. It is now gesturing to where the finger was.
“No point?” I say at first. “Pointless!” I see the Zombie smile.
“What’s pointless?” I ask. Talk about pulling teeth – and no, Zombie, that isn’t an invitation. I ask again, “What’s pointless?”
The Zombie taps on my computer screen.
I don’t believe it. My Inner Zombie only wanted to tell me that this is a pointless post. And that was pretty much covered in the title of the post anyway.
I never have this kind of trouble with my Inner Superhero…
The Mansionic Perspective 
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