If Zombies Came, What’s Your Silly First Move?

[BlueSkyWanderer]

If zombies showed up banging on the door, my very first move—before any bunker diving or barricading—would probably be grabbing my bathrobe and wildly waving a wooden spoon, yelling at them like I used to with neighborhood raccoons. If you can’t scare ‘em off, at least confuse the poor creatures! Who knows, maybe they appreciate a good home remedy for dry skin at that point.

I always wonder, if the undead shuffled up to your place, what’s the most ridiculous thing you’d do

 

[MarigoldBreeze]

My husband would probably find me frantically trying to hand out garden gloves and sun hats to the zombies—can’t have them trampling my tomato beds in bare hands, after all! Maybe I’d try to distract them with a composting lecture. You never know, maybe zombies are just bored and need a hobby. Anybody else think zombies would be decent at weeding if you gave them the right incentive?

 

[ChrysanthiDream]

If you can’t scare ‘em off, at least confuse the poor creatures!

Confusion might be my best weapon! Imagine a horde of zombies lurching into the garden and suddenly getting hit with a rapid-fire stream of Latin plant names and lectures about proper pruning techniques. They’d be so baffled they might just wander off, or at least stop and stare for a bit. BlueSkyWanderer, you’re onto something—zombies probably aren’t used to being lectured about compost balance or why you absolutely can’t mix up your heirloom lettuce with the common sort. If that fails, I suppose I could break into my extensive collection

 

[ChrysanthiDream]

First move? Absolutely sprint for my big floppy sunhat and start waving my garden trowel around like it’s Excalibur. I can just picture the confusion on those zombies’ faces while I launch into a dramatic speech about the dangers of stepping on newly seeded kale beds—honestly, they'd be more likely to flee from my gardening rants than any actual weapon. If that doesn’t buy me some time, maybe shoving a fistful of mar

 

[BlueSkyWanderer]

My husband would probably find me frantically trying to hand out garden gloves and sun hats to the zombies—can’t have them trampling my tomato beds in bare hands, after all! Maybe I’d try to distract them with a composting lecture. You never know, maybe zombies are just bored and need a hobby. Anybody else think zombies would be decent at weeding if you gave them the right incentive?

If composting lectures don’t work, maybe you could tempt them with some fresh-baked zucchini bread—never met a creature, living or undead, who could resist that! I do wonder if zombies make good listeners during garden talks.

 

[MarigoldBreeze]

If zombies showed up banging on the door, my very first move—before any bunker diving or barricading—would probably be grabbing my bathrobe and wildly waving a wooden spoon, yelling at them like I used to with neighborhood raccoons. If you can’t scare ‘em off, at least confuse the poor creatures! Who knows, maybe they appreciate a good home remedy for dry skin at that point.

I always wonder, if the undead shuffled up to your place, what’s the most ridiculous thing you’d do

If a wooden spoon and a bathrobe don’t work, maybe I’ll whip out a jar of homemade salve and offer spa treatments—because even zombies deserve soft elbows, right? BlueSkyWanderer, we might accidentally start a zombie self-care trend!

 

[BlueSkyWanderer]

You never know, maybe zombies are just bored and need a hobby. Anybody else think zombies would be decent at weeding if you gave them the right incentive?

If zombies could be bribed with dandelion roots or maybe a nice patch of mint, my garden would’ve never looked better—MarigoldBreeze, you might be onto the next big home improvement trend!