Zombaby!

a dysfunctional sestina by

Isaac Fox

art by Rowan Finn, @bigoldeels on twitter. Find him at rowanfridley.com.

My husband has turned our zombified daughter into a tourist attraction.

She’s twenty-two months—or she was, before, you know. We broke up

two years ago, after she passed. I left, and he made her a tourist attraction. Oh, don’t worry—

our baby died of natural causes. Rich would never hurt her. The graveyards opened up

five years ago. I thought it was the Second Coming. Now, stabbing a dead one feels no different

than washing the dishes. Stabbing my dead one will feel no different than washing the dishes.

🦷

My version of a flashbulb memory: I remember exactly what I was reading when the news alert popped up. Not the first news alert, I guess, but the first reliable news alert.

I remember every word of the first six pages of the assembly instructions for my new standing desk.

🦷

It’ll feel just like washing the dishes. Just like washing the dishes.

However I met my husband—I honestly don’t remember—we had an immediate attraction.

It wasn’t anywhere near my first relationship, but he seemed like something different

than the others. And he was. He really was, I say that even now that we’re broken up.

We got together after, but before it felt like washing the dishes. It didn’t take us long to open up.

From introductions, to marriage, to a kid, too fast. We didn’t have any parents to worry about us.

🦷

Make sure no obstacles are in the desk’s path. Make sure the desktop is not touching any walls. Make sure all cords are appropriate length to accommodate the change in height.

Do not sit or stand on the desk frame. Do not crawl or lie under the desk frame.

Do not place any objects taller than 20" underneath the desk.

🦷

I’m driving. When I get there, I’ll tell her—I’ll tell her, “Don’t worry.”

And she’ll stare with glassy eyes, and she’ll try to bite into me. Just like washing the dishes.

In huge, dripping letters: “Zombaby!” In smaller, solid letters: “Now open for business.”

A sign made of rotted wood, outside a rusty old petting zoo. Doesn’t look like a tourist attraction,

but I park beside the dozen other cars in the lot. I don’t see him yet—haven’t since we broke up.

Two years ago. Two YEARS. Feels like this very moment, and like a different century.

🦷

The desk height is adjustable so that it can be positioned at the most ergonomically suitable height. Any other use is at user’s risk.

Under no circumstances does the manufacturer accept warranty claims or liability claims for damages caused from improper use or handling of the desk frame.

🦷

I pay three cabbages to enter. The person in front of me pays in eggs. This place is no different

than our day-to-day lives. Why not pay for something new, or at least something reassuring?

The first room is a little museum on what we all just lived through. I break through

the crowd and shove into the next room. Just like doing the dishes—just like doing the dishes.

But not yet. The next fenced enclosure has zombified adults. This is a tourist attraction—

of course it’s all strung out. There’s a live goat in the enclosure. The zombies tear its chest open

and use their stringy, rotten muscles to tug and chew. Like always when I watch them, I think of a starving tortoise.

Everyone around me looks so fascinated with them. And these aren’t people with expensive home-security systems who’ve hardly seen any zombies before—muddy, bloody boots on most everyone here.

How is this interesting to anyone, anymore?

🦷

Required Tools

(I can see the line drawings of a tape measure, a power drill, a Phillips-head screwdriver, and a 4mm Allen wrench. I can also see myself beheading a zombie with each of those tools.)

Parts and Hardware List

(I can see the labeled diagram: the lifting system, the feet, the bracket, the support beam, the various screws, the 4mm hex spanner, the 5mm hex spanner, the rubber cushion, the plastic pad, the cable ties.)

ATTENTION: TIGHTEN ALL THE SCREWS OF THE FRAME TO AVOID WOBBLING. IF THE DESK WOBBLES, TIGHTEN ALL THE SCREWS AGAIN.

🦷

I gave birth to my daughter in the backseat of a truck. It was parked in a wide, open

field. The backseat was heaped with homemade spears and canned corn and something else—

old books? Yeah, it was old books. I knew my husband didn’t think I was attractive

pregnant. We’d raided a library and a grocery store, but just like we were worried about,

the car ran out of vegetable oil, and the store didn’t have any. (Just like doing the dishes.)

So I gave birth in the backseat, with only a few old Advils in my system. On the other side

of the window, zombies oozed on by.

🦷

NOTE: QUANTITY OF SOME SCREWS OR PARTS (just like doing the dishes) MAYBE MORE THAN MENTIONED. IF ANY CONTENT IS (just like doing the dishes) LESS OR MISSING PLEASE CONTACT (just like doing the dishes) US OR OUR RESELLER (just like doing the dishes) ASAP, DO NOT (just like doing the dishes) PROCEED (just like doing the dishes) WITH (just like doing the dishes) THE (just like doing the dishes) ASSEMBLY. (just like doing the dishes) (just like doing the dishes) (just like doing the

🦷

I push through the crowd before the zombies finish eating. The next cage has only one, with a thin swirl of ragged hair on her—its—her, her tiny head. Just like doing the dishes. I’m at the front of the crowd, my face up against the fence. I feel my knife in my pocket. People bump into me hard, jostling to see her. I keep my place at the fence. I could climb this fence. I could climb this fence. Just like doing the

Just like doing the

No.

No, I can’t do this.

🦷

I shove through the crowd. They grumble as I bully my way past the place where you can rent a polaroid camera to take pictures beside a giant wooden cutout of the Zombaby.

I’m glad Rich isn’t out here by the exit. It would be like him—talking to everyone leaving this place, doing his salesman act. “And bring a friend next time!” he’d tell them. Maybe he is out here somewhere. I don’t hang around long enough to find out.

I find my car and drive home faster than anyone should on a road clogged with zombies. When I pull in my driveway, my windshield is cracked and covered in their blood.

🦷

Step 1

**Loosen 4 pcs M6*10 screws, they were attached before packing. Adjust the crossbar to proper position and then tighten the 8 pcs screws.**

Tool required: 4mm Hex Spanner

**Hardware Required: M6*10 Screw 4 pcs**

(I can see the labeled diagram.)

Step 2

Attach legs to support

And then a news alert popped up, and I stopped reading the instructions.

🦷

When she was born, my husband, who hadn’t broken us up yet—

I still thought I loved him. In the backseat, he cut the cord, and then he cradled her and said,

Zombaby!

Isaac Fox

My husband has turned our zombified daughter into a tourist attraction.

She’s twenty-two months—or she was, before, you know. We broke up

two years ago, after she passed. I left, and he made her a tourist attraction. Oh, don’t worry—

our baby died of natural causes. Rich would never hurt her. The graveyards opened up

five years ago. I thought it was the Second Coming. Now, stabbing a dead one feels no different

than washing the dishes. Stabbing my dead one will feel no different than washing the dishes.

🦷

My version of a flashbulb memory: I remember exactly what I was reading when the news alert popped up. Not the first news alert, I guess, but the first reliable news alert.

I remember every word of the first six pages of the assembly instructions for my new standing desk.

🦷

It’ll feel just like washing the dishes. Just like washing the dishes.

However I met my husband—I honestly don’t remember—we had an immediate attraction.

It wasn’t anywhere near my first relationship, but he seemed like something different

than the others. And he was. He really was, I say that even now that we’re broken up.

We got together after, but before it felt like washing the dishes. It didn’t take us long to open up.

From introductions, to marriage, to a kid, too fast. We didn’t have any parents to worry about us.

🦷

Make sure no obstacles are in the desk’s path. Make sure the desktop is not touching any walls. Make sure all cords are appropriate length to accommodate the change in height.

Do not sit or stand on the desk frame. Do not crawl or lie under the desk frame.

Do not place any objects taller than 20" underneath the desk.

🦷

I’m driving. When I get there, I’ll tell her—I’ll tell her, “Don’t worry.”

And she’ll stare with glassy eyes, and she’ll try to bite into me. Just like washing the dishes.

In huge, dripping letters: “Zombaby!” In smaller, solid letters: “Now open for business.”

A sign made of rotted wood, outside a rusty old petting zoo. Doesn’t look like a tourist attraction,

but I park beside the dozen other cars in the lot. I don’t see him yet—haven’t since we broke up.

Two years ago. Two YEARS. Feels like this very moment, and like a different century.

🦷

The desk height is adjustable so that it can be positioned at the most ergonomically suitable height. Any other use is at user’s risk.

Under no circumstances does the manufacturer accept warranty claims or liability claims for damages caused from improper use or handling of the desk frame.

🦷

I pay three cabbages to enter. The person in front of me pays in eggs. This place is no different

than our day-to-day lives. Why not pay for something new, or at least something reassuring?

The first room is a little museum on what we all just lived through. I break through

the crowd and shove into the next room. Just like doing the dishes—just like doing the dishes.

But not yet. The next fenced enclosure has zombified adults. This is a tourist attraction—

of course it’s all strung out. There’s a live goat in the enclosure. The zombies tear its chest open

and use their stringy, rotten muscles to tug and chew. Like always when I watch them, I think of a starving tortoise.

Everyone around me looks so fascinated with them. And these aren’t people with expensive home-security systems who’ve hardly seen any zombies before—muddy, bloody boots on most everyone here.

How is this interesting to anyone, anymore?

🦷

Required Tools

(I can see the line drawings of a tape measure, a power drill, a Phillips-head screwdriver, and a 4mm Allen wrench. I can also see myself beheading a zombie with each of those tools.)

Parts and Hardware List

(I can see the labeled diagram: the lifting system, the feet, the bracket, the support beam, the various screws, the 4mm hex spanner, the 5mm hex spanner, the rubber cushion, the plastic pad, the cable ties.)

ATTENTION: TIGHTEN ALL THE SCREWS OF THE FRAME TO AVOID WOBBLING. IF THE DESK WOBBLES, TIGHTEN ALL THE SCREWS AGAIN.

🦷

I gave birth to my daughter in the backseat of a truck. It was parked in a wide, open

field. The backseat was heaped with homemade spears and canned corn and something else—

old books? Yeah, it was old books. I knew my husband didn’t think I was attractive

pregnant. We’d raided a library and a grocery store, but just like we were worried about,

the car ran out of vegetable oil, and the store didn’t have any. (Just like doing the dishes.)

So I gave birth in the backseat, with only a few old Advils in my system. On the other side

of the window, zombies oozed on by.

🦷

🦷

Just like doing the

No.

No, I can’t do this.

🦷

I shove through the crowd. They grumble as I bully my way past the place where you can rent a polaroid camera to take pictures beside a giant wooden cutout of the Zombaby.

I’m glad Rich isn’t out here by the exit. It would be like him—talking to everyone leaving this place, doing his salesman act. “And bring a friend next time!” he’d tell them. Maybe he is out here somewhere. I don’t hang around long enough to find out.

I find my car and drive home faster than anyone should on a road clogged with zombies. When I pull in my driveway, my windshield is cracked and covered in their blood.

🦷

Step 1

Loosen 4 pcs M6*10 screws, they were attached before packing. Adjust the crossbar to proper position and then tighten the 8 pcs screws.

Tool required: 4mm Hex Spanner

Hardware Required: M6*10 Screw 4 pcs

(I can see the labeled diagram.)

Step 2

Attach legs to support

And then a news alert popped up, and I stopped reading the instructions.

🦷

When she was born, my husband, who hadn’t broken us up yet—

I still thought I loved him. In the backseat, he cut the cord, and then he cradled her and said,

“She’s going to be something.” And I thought,

Why would you ever say something like that?

But I didn’t say it.

**Loosen 4 pcs M6*10 screws, they were attached before packing. Adjust the crossbar to proper position and then tighten the 8 pcs screws.**

**Hardware Required: M6*10 Screw 4 pcs**