Oh, the horror! Zombies, zombies everywhere! The dead have risen in Millennium Park and the only food that can give these pasty-white corpses any sustenance are the brains of these poor, unsuspecting tourists. Except for these four female teenage zombies, who are snacking on peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches and Sunny Delight.
The tourists expecting a blemish-free Saturday now must survive Zombie March 2008, a gathering in the Loop of hundreds of the local living dead, all decked out in tattered, destroyed clothes, with dark, gray circles under their eyes, extensive bruises and blood smeared onto just about every body part imaginable. Three of them are in a brain-dead state as they stare into the Bean when a brave lady approaches them to ask what they’re doing there. “We thought you guys were protesters,” she says. “Well what could they be protesting?” The zombies laugh and reply, “Well, what about zombie rights?” A Millennium Park official warns them to behave.
More and more continue to appear—one with a beard soaked in blood, another with their eyes gouged out and one—a mother—holding onto the hand of her 6-year-old zombie daughter. A once pristine wedding in the park appears ruined—the photographer is trying to take shots of the bride, but there’s a horde of zombies in the background, making guttural growls and moans.
The zombies give interviews to the press. “Where are you guys from?” a TV reporter asks. They reply, in unison, “Wisconsin!” (Andy Seifert)