Dear Future Husband,
In these trying times, I often think of you to get through the days. Will you be tall or short? Will you have brown eyes or blue? Will you eat hot dogs or brains? Simple questions like that run through my mind when I go out for the day into the treacherous wilderness. I never know if I’ll make it back alive or if I’ll be shot, burned or hacked to pieces before I can get to shelter. It’s good to have something to hope for, something to keep me going.
You see, there’s something you should know, my future love. I’m a Zombie American. When the infection came to my town, my pet dog, Sammy, got the virus and I had no idea. We were playing like usual until he bit me. Sammy had never bit me before, that was my first sign something was wrong. Then came the deathly pallor to my skin and the loosening of my joints. Then, the hunger. Please don’t get freaked out. I can do all the normal things wives can do. I can cook, clean, and sometimes if I can muster it, I can stand up straight and look attractive.
Even though I am a zombie, that doesn’t mean I don’t have expectations for you. I don’t want just any guy. In fact, my expectations have only gone up now that life has gotten harder for me. I hope you’re kind and have a sense of humor. The days are long and it would help to have someone understanding and who can make light of a terrible situation, like every day out here in this scary world. I hope you’re resourceful. It’s hard to find food with swarms of zombies around and even shelter can be hard to find for you humans. And most of all, I hope you can run fast. Sometimes the cravings get the best of me and what would be more delicious than the brain of the person I love most? I bet you’d taste so sweet. The soft tendrils of your brain between my maws, your flesh chewy and tender and… anyways.
When we’re married, I want to live in an abandoned mansion. One of those antebellum kinds. I once heard that zombies can’t climb so if we destroy the staircases and you help me up, the upper floor will be all ours. I dream of dancing with you in wide open rooms. I want to feel your touch on my peeling skin. I want to consume you so you’re mine and mine alone. In, like, a totally cute way. Haha…
Maybe I’ve met you already and you ran away. Maybe you’ll be a zombie yourself but I’m not attracted to those kinds of guys. I like sweet guys. With flavorful personalities and delicious looking lips. Zombies just don’t have that, I would know. One day you’ll get to read this, I imagine. I hope it doesn’t change anything between us. I hope that you love me and I trust you enough to be able to share my secret with you.
I look forward to walking down the aisle to you and you running right back up it while I chase you.
Your Loving Wife