There is a spectre haunting Louisiana State University’s annual celebration of Samhain – the spectre of zombie apocalypse. The University is ripe for a zombie attack, and if my data is correct, it’s happening tonight – All Hallow’s Eve. Dear readers, how do you plan to avoid grisly death at the hands of the undead? I’ve seen the movies. I know how this works. The warning signs are everywhere. Tonight is the night we cease being Tigers and start being targets. And I, for one, am making it to the dawn. Open your eyes. We know our fair University is built on an Indian burial ground – it’s not like the administration can hide the Indian Mounds. TV has taught us nothing good ever comes from the systematic destruction of an indigenous people and their way of life, if in so doing we desecrate their eternal resting places centuries after stealing their land. I mean, I’ve seen Poltergeist. It’s been on The Sci-Fi Channel like eight times this week. Don’t get me wrong, I bleed purple and gold as much as the next guy – and I agree the University really needs a Starbucks that offers Venti Chai Cream Frappucinos – but I think our University could use less caffeine and more concern about awakening evil spirits that feed upon our flesh when the veil between the worlds parts to set free these hell-spawned abominations. Tonight’s the night it’s going down. Halloween’s the time of year when night grows longer, when the wall separating the living from the dead grows thin. If ever the undead were to shamble onto our fair campus and pin the living within their dorms while cruising for brains, this is it. I don’t want this year to be the year our University is caught in the bushes with a sexy co-ed, pants around our ankles begging to be ripped limb from limb by a screaming zombie horde. If the University won’t provide a zombie attack contingency plan, I will. That’s why I’m declaring today National Zombie Awareness/Protection Day – or NZA/PD for short. Our goal at The Daily Reveille is to keep as many readers alive as possible for as long as we can, and NZA/PD is one of our three Samhain initiatives – the other two initiatives involve our editor-in-chief, a goat, a pentagram and the awakening of dead Cthulhu, who waits dreaming in his house at R’lyeh. But the less said of that, the better. The keys to surviving a Samhain Slaughter are understanding what makes horror movies work and avoiding death. When the zombies come – and they will come – we’ll all be stuck in our own private horror movie. As NZA/PD pamphlets note, using your brain is the only thing keeping it from being eaten. I’m no scientist. I’m just a scrappy, sassy fighter with a never-say-die attitude, black trench coat and a swank katana. Nonetheless, my research shows the best way to make it through hell on earth is to never go anywhere by yourself, never sleep, never have sex until after you save the day and always incapacitate walking corpses by severing their heads from their bodies. That last one is probably the most important. Some call me an alarmist. But if we don’t act now, every black student on campus will be dead within 15 to 20 minutes of the zombies’ decision that all flesh must be eaten. Unless they can rap. Hollywood has taught us that black characters who can’t rap always die early in scary movies. And that’s racist. But don’t fall into the trap of thinking zombie apocalypse is merely a diversity issue. After black students, the Tigers most at-risk are attractive, scantily clad women who drink and have sex – the ladies of sorority row. Imagine the horror: University co-eds flopping away from their foul-breathed pursuers like dead fish as fast as they can fall. And if that’s what happens on a weeknight at Reggie’s, imagine what would happen if – instead of sleazeballs – zombies were doing the chasing. I’m not sure what to do anymore. It’s not like the University is going to stop being a slasher-fic stereotype before Trick-Or-Treating. We’ll still have a plethora of cute goth girls hanging around outside of Allen Hall, black students, fratty guys running around in polos and milquetoast all-American kids begging to be just another victim. But don’t worry, I’m stuck in this B-movie just like all of you. I’m the nerd who knows too much, the Cassandra who sees a ruinous future. And, just like in the movies, no one will listen until the body count rises past the point of no return.
—-Contact Neal Hebert at [email protected]