Like there I was just walking along and suddenly whack! Marilyn Manson all covered in blood and bruises is in my face. You deserve those bruises ‘cos your weirdly weird eyes freak me thought I, right before doing a double take into a hapless bystander for behind Marilyn was a grey person with a dangling eye being followed by a bunch of dead surgeons with ridiculous amounts of blood oozing from top to toe festering orifices. And then…like…holy crap! I’m completely surrounded by Zombies! Yes…goddamned Zombies! And ghouls (there is a difference) and everything undead and scary and reminding me of me in the morning mirror post big night out.
As they ambled, shuffled and/or dragged themselves and each other along, some waving placards bearing ‘Zombies Have Rights Too’, a van screaming apocalyptic rock followed by a few bored riot control police (who could make for tasty snacks later) hauled up the rear. But you know what? I just couldn’t help grinning right back at them for the Zombies were having an absolute blast!
Hundreds of people participate in the annual Paris Zombie walk (one in Lyon too) and there’s no significant point to it other than giving individuals obsessed with the undead opportunity to roam the streets; albeit in a chaotically controlled manner as they had a specific route (Republique to Place des Vosges in the Marais) but heck, who’d want to run over a Zombie anyway? Too risky.
As I stumbled out the other side of the 400 plus throng, I giggled to myself – imagine if they’d let the Zombies loose last week during the fog exhibit back at the Republique? Pooped panties everywhere…so très unchic!