Zombie Zoo – Zombie Smell

ME

Ah, the human sense of smell, a sense that is shot up with methamphetamine, overloaded with caffeine, and given a jolt of electricity when you become a member of the living dead. We’ve all had those moments where the smell of a certain aroma brings back memories of a time long past. Take me for instance, the smell of fresh baked apple pie always brings back the memory of those pleasant days when the family would all gather together, enjoy Grandma’s just out of the oven apple pie, and watch as Uncle David demonstrated the best ways to eviscerate a living person and still not get much of a mess on yourself. There are few senses that will slap you in the face as much as the sense of smell, whether pleasant or foul, whether a bringer of cheerful thoughts or a reminder of painful memories, whether it’s full of hope or full of hate, nothing will beat your mind to a pulp in under a minute like the sense of smell. It is this sense that we are going to be talking about today, a sense that becomes solely focused on human flesh once one rises again as a member of our race.

Yes, it’s your favorite zombie, here once again to berate the living on the stupidity of their air breathing ways, or at least that’s what I was going to do before the sharp dressed men from before reminded me of the importance of having all my limbs intact. See, they have this twisted friend with a penchant for chopping off body parts that I just do not feel like dealing with. It’s not that I’m scared or anything, this zombie can handle himself well enough, it’s just that…umm…well, you see…what I’m trying to get at…ok, I’m scared out of my mind about this guy. There, I said it, think what you will, but see how well you handle a hulking eight foot tall five hundred pound dude in clown make up, a gimp outfit, and a giant axe the size of a smart car. If a zombie could piss itself, then this one would do it every time the guy comes around, though I have to admit, he does know some really cool drinking games.

Before I go into what it’s like to smell the world as a zombie, there’s one thing you need to understand first and foremost, as a zombie, the thing you smell more than anything else is human flesh. Sure, you can smell other things to an extent, I mean I could still tell you that cotton candy smells sweet, roses smell pungent, and that bum who won’t quit asking me for change (seriously dude, I’m a walking, rotting, swearing corpse, what the hell job to you think I could possibly have) smells like a fat guy’s asshole. It’s just that our olfactory abilities become attuned to the scent of living, human flesh, pretty much to the point where it overwhelms any other smell, even if said member of the living is five miles away. It’s only human flesh that sets off our nostrils too; we could smell a living human in a house miles away, while that rabbit only five feet in front of us remains undetected. For whatever reasons, kicking the bucket and then having the bucket kick you back knocks your sense of smell up to a whole nother level. You want to know something really weird though, you don’t even have to have a nose to have this incredible sense of smell. I’ve seen zombies with their entire faces gone, their nose fallen off at some stage in that zombie’s unlife, you could look right at their brain through that cavity and still they could smell you the instant you came within range. Doesn’t it suck to know that, forgive me but I just kind of want to rub it in your face a little bit, but seriously, doesn’t it suck that we could pick up your scent so easily?

That means we will pretty much find you wherever you are. If you hide in a cabinet, we’ll find you, if hide on the top floor of the Empire State Building, we’ll find you, even if you hide in a deep dark hole in the middle of the Earth, we will eventually find you. I’ve always kind of wondered if it isn’t some part of the brain that gets activated when you reanimate, you know, like some part of the brain you had while you were alive but just never used, some kind of extra sense you gain…or maybe humans just smell really, really, really good to the living dead. Whatever the reasons, I cannot tell you the amazing places I’ve seen humans hide, hell, I found one actually nestled up inside the wall one time. Turned out to be some damn kid though, had to let him go, stupid bastard actually made me tear through the wall to get him. Imagine my disappointment when I found out it was a kid? Kids taste absolutely disgusting; you parents put too much crap in your kids today for my taste. I can’t even bite into them, seriously, makes my rotting stomach want to expel the perfectly edible adult I had only a bit ago; it’s like catching a small fish you have to let go, that’s the best way to describe it. To tell you the truth, I would rather eat the diseased carcass of Paris Hilton before I would even bother eating a child.

It would be fun if I could pretend there was no way to ward off a zombie attack even with our sense of smell, but in the essence of honesty (and because of a certain axe man), I have to say there are a few ways in which to make sure we skip your house. One way would be to make a digital tape of Rosie O’Donnell, Tom Arnold, Michael Moore, Oprah Winfrey, and Sigourney Weaver having a wild orgy…even the hungriest of zombies would never come near that scene. Hey, even we have limits all right? You expect a zombie to try to get in the middle of that situation? We know it’s probably a fake tape, we’re not stupid, but on the off chance it’s real, there’s no way in heaven or hell we’re going near it. I would rather starve, I would rather have to cross the Pacific Ocean to get to my next meal, hell, I would rather face a rampaging herd of angry hyena than chance walking in on what can only be described as a brief view of hell. You could also play either Kenny G, Kelly Osbourne, or Papa Roach at a really loud level, the sounds issued forth would be enough to ruin pretty much anything’s appetite. Yeah, you’re still going to get a few undead that might not mind so much, but for the majority of us, we aren’t going anywhere near those stereos. Still another way (and this is by far the most embarrassing) would be to chastise us for our terrible behavior, I have no idea why this works, but it always does. I’ve seen it time and time again, some brave, crazy, or just plain pissed off member of the living screaming at a zombie only to have it back away in shame. It’s been done to me a few times, and every time I leave feeling bad about myself for a little bit while the sack of meat walks back inside their house or fortress or whatever thing they’ve cobbled together to avoid our attacks. It’s odd I know, but it seems to works.

I think I’ve given away enough trade secrets for which I’m sure will get me banned from Zombie Local 339, and you have no idea how hard I had to work to get into that damn union (are you ready for the comedy cymbals), people are literally dying to get in. Wait, that’s not really even true, damn it, not only is that not even funny in a corny way, but it makes no sense. You’re already dead when you apply for the union, so why would you die again? That doesn’t make a bit of sense. What is the zombie union you ask? You really don’t know of the union? Wow, you cattle have lost touch haven’t you? (Admin edit: Say’s the guy who just made what has to be the lamest joke I’ve ever heard).

Well I guess that is just going to have to wait till the next time, because this zombie smells himself a meal right now. See you next week; if you aren’t the lucky type, this is your unfriendly neighborhood zombie signing out.

About The Undead Review

When I was alive I was an asshole and after I died remained pretty much the same, if not a little worse. You’d think becoming a member of the walking dead would mellow a person out, no more worrying about awkward small talk with people, no more having to be politically correct, and the entire world is your upright, bipedal buffet. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun as hell to be a zombie, just somewhat irritating at times, especially those times you have to watch a lame movie or read a lame book. Thankfully, when I am forced to watch these films or read those books, I’ve got places like The Undead Review to bitch and moan to my heart’s content. {When he’s not devouring the living or sinking his teeth into a good film The Undead Review (Andy Taylor) spends his time writing his own stories or hunting down the paranormal. Oh, and did we mention his blind dog once saved the world?)
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