“Anything Done while Shopping for The Perfect Gift”      They said it couldn’t be done, but I got one.      If you’ve ever tried to spend Christmas Eve shopping for one more gift, you know just what a madhouse it can be.  Gaudy displays, really irritating Christmas music, and all those damn bell ringers!  But by far the worst has to be the zombie shoppers, and this year they all want one thing.      “Elmo,” they moaned.  “Find Elmo.”      I’ve dealt with zombies before, at least this particular bunch and their Zombie Master leader.  The first time was when they tried to summon a demonic teddy bear in upstate New York.  Then there was that “dead & breakfast” in Vermont.  And the Billion Body March, with their demand for Last Rites.      It’s fairly easy to sidetrack zombies, given the mush that makes up their minds.  (Too much TV, no doubt.)  So I tossed them a couple cans of dog food I had bought.      “It’s Tickle-Me-Alpo!  Go get it!”      No good.  I pulled out my gun, but then put it away.  Bullets aren’t much good against the undead, unless they’re silver bullets; all I had was rubber mercy bullets: Tickle-Me-Ammo.      “Elmo,” they moaned.  “Find Elmo.”      I looked around for a toy store, but no such luck.  The local Internet Cafe’ was advertising “E-Mail-Me-Greg Morrow” (whatever that was; I may be a detective, but the mysteries of computers are beyond me), but I doubted that would be of much use.  Then I saw a record store and remembered that these zombies are notoriously fond of singing.  And there’s nothing worse than Christmas for songs that everybody knows.      “You want Elmo, fellows?  Heck, I’ll give you Elmo... and Patsy, too!  Everybody sing!  ‘Grandma got run over by a reindeer...  Walking home from our house Christmas Eve...’”      “Enough!” cried the Zombie Master.  “Bring... me... Elmo!”      Okay.  Now I was desperate.  If I was going to get out of here with my prize — much less alive — I would have to use my weapon of last resort.      “Everyone, follow me!  Right arm out, left arm out.”  Being zombies, they had that move down pat.  “Palm up, palm up, shoul-der, shoul-der.”      “No!” cried the Zombie Master.  “Stop!  Not that!  I’ve been to Hell and even they weren’t this cruel!  Please!”      “Back of head, back of head, left hip, right hip, right hip, left hip, swivel, aaaaand turn!  Do it again!  Right arm out, left arm out,...”      I sauntered past the Zombie Master, now little more than a cringing heap on the floor.      “Don’t mess with me and my shopping,” I told him, “or next time it won’t be the Macarena.  They’ll be doing the Achy-Breaky Heart.” Best wishes for the Holiday Season from Marc Lynx and all the “Missing Lynx” characters.   Click here to return to the main Signature Quotes page Click here to return to the main Missing Lynx page
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