“Did you lock the door?” I asked my teenager. “Lock it, or the zombies will come and eat you.”
“Give me a break, mum,” he said, looking down at his video game. “I’ll get around to it.”
“Did you lock the door like I told you?” I repeated half an hour later, passing through the room. “Lock it or the zombies will come in and eat you, hide and hair, down to the bone.”
“I said I’d do it, didn’t I?” he whined, playing away. “Can’t I have a moment of peace around here?”
I went away to finish the chores. After some time, I returned. “Did you lock the door?” I demanded. “I’m not going to ask you again.”
“Why does it have to be I who has to do everything around here?” he moaned. “I’ll do it in my good time, I said.”
“You won’t,” I said. “And when the zombies break in and eat you, see if I care.”
“Big deal,” he said, and went back to his game. “I’ve better things to do.”
So I went upstairs to my room and shut the door, and sure enough after some time the zombies came in downstairs and ate him, hide and hair, down to the bone, just as I'd said they would.
And then they sat down and played his video game all night. They’re the same, zombies and teenagers.
No brains at all, either of them.
Copyright B Purkayastha 2016