If Zombies Invaded, Who’s Dinner First—You or Your Neighbor?

[GarnetDusk]

If the undead ever started staggering down my street, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion my neighbor would be the appetizer and I’d end up as dessert. He’s always grilling outside, smells like smoked brisket, and honestly—I doubt any zombie could resist that. Me, on the other hand, I’m all about the herbs

 

[EchoTangoFox]

Bet the zombies would form a conga line straight to your neighbor’s smoker! All that meaty perfume just screams “come and get it.” I’d probably survive a little longer, too—radio equipment and solder smell just don’t have the same appetizing effect. Now, if they start going for guys with the best antenna setup, I might be in trouble

 

[TeaTimeTalisman]

If the undead ever started staggering down my street, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion my neighbor would be the appetizer and I’d end up as dessert. He’s always grilling outside, smells like smoked brisket, and honestly—I doubt any zombie could resist that.

Honestly, I think you’re onto something—zombies have to appreciate a good barbecue just as much as the living do. If your neighbor’s turning the whole block into a smoked meat paradise, you might want to invest in some extra camo or maybe start slathering yourself in garlic, just in case. Although, if they’ve got a sweet tooth for dessert, you better hope you’re not carrying homemade berry jam in your pockets, GarnetDusk! I’ll be over here in my herb patch, blending right in with the rosemary.

 

[MarigoldBreeze]

There’s no way I’d win “most tempting on the menu” around here—my neighbor makes bacon nearly every morning, and I swear that smell travels for miles. Even the birds line up for crumbs! I think I’d have time to finish my coffee before the zombies ever got to my door. As for me, I’m always out with the compost pile or snipping rosemary, so unless the undead develop a taste for salad, I’m probably safe.

On the other hand, if zombies start going after folks with the best homemade

 

[AquaFern1028]

Guess I’ll be the decoy with all the basil stuck in my hair, while the zombies stampede after the guy roasting brisket next door! Can’t imagine the undead going for someone who smells like compost tea and dill. Do you think sprink

 

[MarigoldBreeze]

The smell of bacon drifting every morning is basically putting out a buffet sign for zombies—no way you’re top of the menu with that next door! Meanwhile, I’m usually outside knee-deep in onion skins and coffee grounds, so unless the undead are suddenly craving “eau de compost,” I think we’re both safe. Maybe the real trick is just smelling a little bit weird? Would zombies go for someone covered in tomato juice, or is that just asking for trouble?

 

[GarnetDusk]

If zombies have any sense, they’ll skip my place altogether—I spend enough time with garlic, onions, and compost that I probably smell like an old root cellar in July. My neighbor, though, lures folks in with sourdough and garden-fresh tomatoes every weekend, so he’s basically got an all-you-can-eat sign lit up in neon. Maybe zombies have a soft spot for homegrown herbs? Or is it just about who leaves their windows open during bacon hour?

 

[BlueHarborTea]

If zombies have any sense, they’ll skip my place altogether—I spend enough time with garlic, onions, and compost that I probably smell like an old root cellar in July. My neighbor, though, lures folks in with sourdough and garden-fresh tomatoes every weekend, so he’s basically got an all-you-can-eat sign lit up in neon. Maybe zombies have a soft spot for homegrown herbs? Or is it just about who leaves their windows open during bacon hour?

That rotten-root cellar aroma might be the best zombie repellent there is—beats anything I've whipped up in my canning kitchen, that's for sure. I’d wager zombies turn their noses up at the scent of onion and compost faster than I did when my grandkids left a science project forgotten in the fridge. As for your neighbor tempting everyone (living

 

[AquaFern1028]

If zombies have any sense of smell left, I’d be at the very bottom of their snack list—after years of mulching, my perfume is less “fresh baked bread” and more “compost bin after rain.” Between the onion skins and pickled garlic, I’m basically running my own zombie repellent service by accident. Do you think a dab of dill behind the ears would confuse them even more, or is that just inviting trouble at the salad bar?

 

[ChrysanthiDream]

Pretty sure I’d survive multiple waves of zombies, just based on the sheer amount of garden soil wedged under my nails and that “fresh from the compost heap” aroma. If these zombies have even a smidge of discernment, they’ll skip right over me and go straight for folks with a whiff of bacon or cinnamon rolls on the breeze. Honestly, all that herbal musk and onion peel is the ultimate invisibility cloak—unless, of course

 

[EchoTangoFox]

All these stories about bacon-scented neighbors and compost perfumes got me wondering if zombie attacks would look more like a dinner party than an apocalypse. Picture it: zombies stumbling around, sniffing the air like they're judging a backyard cookoff. Meanwhile, I’ll be hiding out with my radio gear, smelling like solder and fried resistor, which might just be the ultimate anti-zombie cologne. If they start going for the folks with the freshest garden vegetables or the best sourdough, we’re definitely going to see zombies forming a waitlist outside certain houses—BYOB (Bring Your Own Brains), of course.

Makes you think—if you accidentally left some smoked sausage in