Remember remember the 5th of November, zombies, and my potential viking master

Today I’m hoping to see a zombie.

I flew from Paris to Manchester yesterday with my boss.  We’re staying in Huddersfield, and according to a brochure I found in the hotel lobby, the Dungeon of York promises ghosts.

Ghosts, and potentially zombies.

The ghosts have been lingering around York since 1551 when the putrid plague brought forth pussing boils, rotting corpses, and the lingering scent of all things horrifying.  Creatures and items which fall under this category include (but not limited to) ghosts, snakes, witches, bigger ghosts, vampires (the real kind, there will be no mention of that series here dear readers), Lord Voldemort, Hannibal, anyone dedicated to killing in the serial fashion, beets, and of course, zombies.

What better method of zombie creation than a horrendous plague?  The bodies are already there, and I don’t imagine zombies hump, so their reproduction must somehow be linked to disease.

Hence, my assumption there is such a thing as the zombies of York.

Also a logical conclusion is that they are lingering just outside this hotel room in the woods across the street.  I can practically hear them shuffling through the leaves in search of innocent blood.

Ok, so if it was really innocent they were after, maybe I wouldn’t be their girl.  Let’s say-American blood.  Yea, I bet those York zombies can’t wait to take a bite out of a Yank.  Which would ultimately make me a Yank-York-Zombie, and last time I checked, that’s not on my to-do list.

Also, I’m on the ground floor so they wouldn’t have to climb to find me or anything.  They’d basically just have to cross the street (crosswalk provided for their safety), break my window, and create a whole new monster for their clan.

Great.

The York Dungeon evidently also hosts an exhibit on something called the Bloody Vikings.  Next to the blurb: “Keep your wits about you as the Vikings go bersek in York-where will you run when the Vikings raid?”, is what looks like a bloody gladiator with a really mean face.

This is not the face you want to sit next to on public transportation, that’s for sure.

Still, he’s far more attractive than the plague-zombies, and I’m guessing if he bashes in my window, I’ll probably have to be some kind of gladiator-slave-wench.  If that happens, I hope Hollywood is involved in the costume design because I am going to need some serious hair and makeup maintenance to pull of that look with any kind of dignity.

There is also a labyrinth of shadowy mirrors.  I’m not entirely sure what this entails, but it claims to be from the lost Roman legion, and judging by the screaming child in the image, it is either related to murder, or David Bowie invented spandex in the Roman era.

It’s a shame I don’t have time to go to the museum itself to do more research.  I’d like to be properly prepared for all of the horrendous horror which may quickly find its way to me today.

There are a lot of gruesome shenanigans that have occurred in York at one time or another.  It’s amazing anyone would choose to live here.

Maybe I should purchase binoculars to search f0r the zombies from the treetops.

You know, for anthropological purposes.   I wouldn’t want to get too close, but I can hardly pass up the opportunity to go zombie-watching.

The nighttime goldfish ghost.

In eighth grade I briefly owned a goldfish with a deflated eyeball sack.

I know, he was pretty awesome.

At night he’d swim around his tiny bowl and hit the side with his face.

Vision was a little hard for Ralph with that droopy eyeball.

He wasn’t long for this world, and after about a week in my lair, I offered his body to the porcelain Gods.

 

Since I was a big fan of the little guy, I’ve decided to immortalize him here, both sacks re-inflated.  I figure he’d want to look presentable to the blogging community, I know fame was always a big aspiration of Ralph’s.

So here he is.

Your nighttime goldfish ghost.

Surfing the blogosphere, one pumped eyesack at a time.

G’night bloggers.