I had it in mind to write about something else this evening, but I think I’ll save my other thought for another post, because as I was thinking of writing of the other thought I had the most wonderful thought. It has to do with zombies and serial killers.
Let us imagine a room full of strangers. They all have a few things in common. They’re all scared. They’re all tied to chairs and gagged. Most of them are probably bleeding and/or crying. They may have other things in common too, but these more subtle similarities are known only to the serial killer who now stands menacingly above them. He is smiling. His pupils are dilated and he’s singing. Not because he necessarily wants to but because he’s just broken through some sort of barrier. One just isn’t enough anymore and he’s somehow successfully managed to gather a gaggle of victims for a one night binge and some ballad rolls absentmindedly off his tongue. We won’t get too deep into the hows or whys of it. I’m no serial killer so I couldn’t imagine those. I’m sure it took much planning and self restraint. But let’s not dwell on the killer. My thought has to do with some sort of karmic alignment, if such a thing exists. We will imagine for a moment that it does. And even if it doesn’t, the following scenario could make us believe in it anyway.
The killer indulges himself completely. He takes much pleasure in killing all of his victims one by one, drunk on the screams and sobs of the living as they witness his brutality enacted upon the others. He may even let one live, he thinks. Let one go and hunt him or her down again another night. Double his pleasure, so to speak. But before he knows it all are dead. As quickly as it started, his night of indulgence is over and he begins the arduous task of demolishing the evidence. He enjoys this part also. Its like the cool down lap after a long run. His adrenals begin to slow production as he slices the ropes holding his victims. His heart rate slows as the bodies thump to the floor. He notices that his breath is returning to its normal rate as he arranges the bodies for dissection.
And then, all of a sudden, the zombie apocalypse hits. Its subtle at first. As he hacks an arm off a guy he wonders, did that girl over there just roll her eyes? He shakes it off and gets back to work and soon the now armless corpse in front of him nearly bites his eyeball out. He jerks back, stunned, as all his victims reanimate before his eyes and begin moaning and shuffling their way towards him. He’s unsure how to feel but there is a slight rush of excitement. He gets to re-murder all his murder victims! Only this time they aren’t afraid of him. They aren’t tied up. And there are several of them. He stabs a couple through an eyeball because, hey, even serial killers read graphic novels, and…and…he’s satisfied…sort of…but they aren’t squirming. They’re trying to get him too and one scratches his arm with a fingernail and he doesn’t like that. It isn’t fun anymore. They might get him and that just isn’t the way it’s supposed to happen. He runs, but he stumbles. He’s the horrified one now. They’re almost on top of him and he thinks Oh, man, I’ve gotta re-murder all my murder victims. And then, well, in the spirit of karmic alignment let’s say they murder him.
Only it isn’t really murder because A) they’re just trying to satisfy their instinctual urges like predators on a savannah and B) they’re murder victims and there’s no supreme court ruling yet on whether a killing made by a murder victim, who was for a matter of several minutes already dead him/herself, can indeed be defined as murder. After all, how does one prosecute a reanimated corpse? That’s a question I can’t answer. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if this didn’t bug me to the point that I’m driven to try in a future post.
I think I’ve milked this for all I can. Plus it’s almost bed time anyway. I bid you adieu and a don’t.
Adieu…pray that the supreme court comes to a decision on this crucial matter before it’s too late. Perhaps you should contact a member of Congress. It just seems like double jeopardy to me. And not the Trebek version.
A don’t…take the adieu as a serious suggestion. And if you adieu…a don’t tell your congressman I told you to contact him regarding this particular line of inquiry.