Saturday, August 15, 2009

Zombie Homeopathy

This morning we were playing with Theron's toys. (Theron is my son; he turned three back in June, which was a bit over two months ago.) This was something of a command performance, since I just woke up. On the whole I would have preferred to be drinking my tea. My son, however, had other ideas. He wanted me to play with the zombie (an action figure), while my wife played with Octopus Monster (actually a stuffed-animal version of Cthulhu). More to the point, he wanted us to make Octopus Monster talk to the zombie.

So I'm sitting at the kitchen table, sipping my tea, and making the zombie talk to the Octopus Monster, when I spot this this business card lying amidst yesterday's mail. On the front, it gives the name and phone number for someone who claims to be a "Homeopathy Physician" (and actually puts "M.D." after his - or possibly her - name).

Well, the thing unfolds. So I open it up and look at the inside, and find:
Stimulate body and mind to heal naturally
Beneath this is a list of things that Homeopathy can cure. I call my wife over, because - in addition to things like "Allergies" and "Acne" - it has a bullet point for "Woman disease like Menstrual problems, Menopause, Uterine fibroid, Pregnancy related disorders, Brest lumps etc." That's an exact quote, by the way, so the erratic capitalization and misspellings are all part of the original card.

So I'm sitting there thinking, Homeopathic medicine cures Menopause? Seriously? Except that I'm currently the zombie, and my wife is currently the Octopus Monster, and our son wants us to make the two monsters talk to each other. This, naturally, pulls the conversation a little off track...

Octopus Monster: "Hi, zombie"
Zombie: "Hi, Octopus Monster."
OM: "What are you looking at, Zombie?"
Z: "It's a business card. It says homeopathic medicine can cure all kinds of things."
OM: "Do you need homeopathic medicine, Zombie?"
Z: "Well, I was hoping it would cure Rotting Flesh."
OM: "Yes, you do seem to have a problem with that."
Z: "It would be great if I could rub some powdered rose leaves..."
OM: "Maybe a poultice?"
Z: "...or maybe put a poultice on my arm and have the flesh grow back."
OM: "Well, maybe there is some sort of natural cure for that."
Z: {thoughtful pause}
Z: "Brains."
OM: "Oh, yes. The brains of the living."
Z: "Brains are homeopathic."

So there you go, folks. Brains are homeopathic medicine for zombies. You heard it here first.

One of these days, Theron is going to repeat something like this at school (or church, or somewhere equally inappropriate). I'm not looking forward to explaining our sense of humor. On the other hand, it'll probably make for some interesting parent-teacher conferences...

This entry will probably be cross-posted in The Book of Parenting.


  1. I've been known to slip edited versions of notes from our apartment complex back in their night drop box. Honestly, I don't think anyone ever bothers to proofread them. It's one of my pet peeves. I don't have much faith in your product if you can't write half way decently. Unfortunately, the night drop slot has now been removed. . . Sigh. . .

  2. I think the formula is that you subtract five points of apparent IQ for every glaring error in spelling or grammar.


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