After The Concert

Svend decided to cut through several cemeteries (just for the fun of it!) on his way back home from the Vampiress Morgana concert in St. James' Park.

"Pretty clever marketing tool," Svend thought, "for them to pass off that new heavy metal singer as a real live vampiress."

Svend chuckled.

He didn't believe in vampires or vampiresses.

He didn't believe in anything supernatural.

Especially God.

Svend being the ardent admirer of militant atheist Richard Dawkins that he was- laughed at people who believed in God.

He thought they were childish and imbeciles.

Svend had spent Easter Sunday sending text messages and emails to his Christian acquaintances saying, "Happy Zombie Jesus Day!" and then rolling over with laughter once he had sent the message.

For really, what was the difference between tales of zombies and the New Testament accounts of Jesus?

Zombies rose from the dead.

Jesus rose from the dead.

So what's the difference?

A Christian girl he liked but didn't want to date for fear it would embarass him in front of his skeptical atheistic and truly intellectual friends had tried to explain it to him after she had received a Happy Zombie Jesus Day message from him this past Easter Sunday.

"Don't you see," Belle said, "zombies don't have souls. Zombies are soulless corpses animated by demons to give them movement. The Resurrected Jesus is no longer dead. He's not Undead or Living Dead. He's alive pure and simple. And He has a soul. Jesus is God. God the Son- the Second Person of the Holy Trinity- united to a human body and human soul - and existing in one person- known to us as Jesus of Nazareth. Ever since His Incarnation, He is both True God and True Man. And He loves. He loves us. Zombies are incapable of love- having no souls."

"Neither zombies nor Jesus have souls," Svend laughed, "since there's no such thing as a soul."

"If I had a choice who I'd like to meet on a dark night," Belle said, "Jesus or zombies, I'd know which one I'd choose. Jesus who loved and healed people. Not zombies who are just corpses devoid of souls and corpses animated by demons at that.."

"There is no Jesus or zombies or souls or demons," Svend laughed and pressed the off button on his cell phone.

As Svend walked through the cemetery after the Morgana concert, he came upon a Crucifix.

The figure of Jesus on the Crucifix seemed to radiate kindness and love.


As he gazed on the figure, an inner voice seemed to be speaking to him, "Svend, walk with Me. Allow Me to walk with you, Svend. I want to help you. I want to be your Strength and Protection."

"Sheesh," Svend shook his head, "You don't exist. You're just a figment of that nutcase Paul's imagination. He took the dying/resurrecting god tales of Egyptian mythology- stories of Osiris and Horus- and merged them with a well-known but very dead Jewish preacher of his day. You don't exist. There is no God. No afterlife. No heaven. No zombies who are just boogey men in the dark."

Svend continued to walk through the cemetery.

Oblivious to the fact that he was now in a very old part of the cemetery.

One for hung and executed murderers and criminals.

Oblivious also to the fact that South African witch doctor Sterling Makabo had been through here recently collecting more specimens for North Korean dictator Kim Jong-il's proposed million man army of zombies which he would release someday on the Western world as well as Japan and South Korea.

The zombies wandered aimlessly since their controller Sterling Makabo was having a Big Mac attack and had rushed away to a nearby McDonald's to buy himself and eat a Big Mac.

The soulless demon possessed zombies were starting to feel hungry themselves.

When they saw Svend coming towards them, they advanced.

"What the fuck?-" were Svend's last words.

Svend was eaten by the zombies.

Svend chose not to come face-to-face with Jesus.

Instead he came face-to-face with zombies.

Whether or not he made the right choice was of no consequence to the picture of Richard Dawkins on the back cover of the book in his pocket now being ripped apart by zombie fingers.

Nor whether he made the right choice seemed to pose any moral or ethical dilemma for the soulless zombies who were currently eating his flesh and limbs.

To be continued.