5k Walk of the Living Dead

LIVINGSTON, ME – This past Sunday was the 363rd Annual 5k Walk of the Living Dead. The event has gained much in popularity since its inauguration in 1644 when there were only two participants, a Puritan who had met his end with an ax to the head courtesy of a Pequot Indian and yet still managed to lurch the entire length of the race without the ax falling to the ground, and the very same Pequot who had planted the ax before he himself received a Christian musket shot through the chest for his troubles. In fact, the ax-headed Puritan and the hole-where-his-heart-once-was Pequot were present at this year’s race as Special Guests. They have become good friends over the years, having put their little mortal tiff behind them.

“It was just a misunderstanding about whether we palefaces should commit genocide,” said the Puritan, as the ax moved up and down with each movement of his jaw.

“Yeah,” joined in the Pequot, “now we both want to exterminate the human race, all races, especially on dark, creepy nights.”

The animated corpses laughed at the joke.

Zombies from all over the world entered the race, which usually is an all-day affair, what with none of the walkers able to flex their knee joints.

“Let’s face it,” said a former blacksmith from Danzig, who had no face in the usual sense of the word, only a charred skull mask, “us living dead folks are not known for our get-up and go. But we are persistent buggers.”

The organizing force behind the event was a Polynesian who had half his ribcage shot away by Captain Cook in 1778. He informed the walkers at the finish line that they had raised a lot of money this year for the Zombie Retirement Fund. The zombies congratulated themselves by waving half rotted arms and leaving an occasional body part on the ground to be attached once they submitted their times to the judges. The rib-less Polynesian added that “there is such goodwill in the air today.”

This was in contrast to what the mortals living downwind said of the day and even of the next day.

“You can’t imagine the stench,” said a living Frank Ames. “It usually takes a week for the leprous smell of decomposing flesh to be blown away by the coastal winds. But we have an agreement with the zombies. We let them host their 5K race for charity and they don’t wait for nightfall to eat the residents of the town. I’ll put up with a week of putrid odor in exchange for not having my family chomped on by a moaning mass of dead people.”