Why eat turkey when you could have zombies?

So, I am trying to convince the Best Friend to come down for Thanksgiving. I could go up to Boise for Turkey Day, but I am lazy. More importantly, my professors think breaks are for homework and studying. However, I want the Best Friend to come down and hang out with me while I am not doing homework.

He is not giving me a straight answer, which is annoying. So I am up with a great reason for why he has to come down for the break. My roommate is going back to Boise, and I will be all alone down here. I do not like being alone at night in my apartment. There are two doors and lots of old windows that seem like they would be easy to force open. I am paranoid.

And I am paranoid because I am afraid of zombies. I'm not going to lie; if you have read my older posts, you know I am obsessed with zombies in some kind of morbid fascination. Some women worry that rapists will break into their house; I say, bring on the rapists. I am not afraid of people. People are easy to overpower. However, I am terrified of the day when I will wake up and hear that low moan that means the apocalypse has come. I'm terrified, and I kind of look forward to it.

However, I look forward to it in the event that my roommate will be here. If she is not here when it happens, I'm afraid I will wake up to this:

I informed my best friend of this, and the long conversation that followed was a discussion on whether or not it would be awful to be a zombie.

Personally, I'm insulted that he would be alright with zombies eating me. He seems to think that my fear of being zombie-food is ridiculous and irrational. I think he would not enjoy being consumed by a zombie.

"I don't want to be a zombie."

"Yes you do, don't lie."

"No I don't! I would rather be raped by Bigfoot than become a zombie!"

I was mad and ignored him for about half an hour.

"I still can't believe you want me to be eaten by zombies."

"Zombies need love, too."

"I hardly see how my being devoured would show them love."

"Trust me, it would."

"Well gee, thanks a ton. Because being eaten sounds like a great way to die."

"But you DON'T die. That's the beauty of it!"

"That is silly."

"True, though."

This also involved me telling him I was going to have to sleep under the couch because I was so terrified of being eaten. He told me to send pictures. I told him I can't take pictures from under the couch. Then I asked why he hates me. He said he hates everyone.

This is still an ongoing conversation. It will eventually end with either him coming down here for Thanksgiving, or me being eaten by zombies and added to their legion of undead.