I thought this up last night while brushing my teeth but it's been lingering in the back of my head and I think I'm actually cooking with this. Hear me out.
So. Zombie apocalypse. Modern day, of course. It's been going on for a while, but some people are still alive, hanging out in survivalist situations or what have you.
Now, there's this family that's been moderately successful at homesteading, in that they're not dead, but they're hanging on by a thread. A farmer, his wife, and their daughter. Well, the wife dies, unexpectedly. Zombie gets her, she has a heart attack, whatever. Terrible thing to happen.
But when she dies, all her skills go with her, and pre-apocalypse she was a fiber arts hobbyist. She could spin, weave, knit, sew, etc. A good thing for her family, because going in to town to raid malls is risky, and the zombie apocalypse is hard on clothes.
Now, she was trying to teach her daughter how to do all that stuff, but she was usually busy doing other vital-for-survival type stuff. Understandable. But that doesn't mean her father doesn't get red in the face and screaming furious when she messes up the spinning wheel.
Intelligible screaming is, of course, notable when 99.99% of the population is dead or undead, and who should be out scouting for supplies but the second in command of the nearest large group of survivors? He and his guys go to investigate and find the guy beating up the daughter in front of their house. They ask, politely, what the hell the guy thinks he's doing. Also, why was he yelling about spinning?
Guy: my worthless daughter wastes all her time spinning and knitting and doesn't help me in the field like she was supposed to
And, of course, even for the biggest local group of survivors, proper clothing is hard to come by, right? The zombie apocalypse is hard on clothing. So, they pack up all the homesteaders' stuff, plus the daughter and her father and bring it back with them. They were probably going to do that anyway, because you don't become the biggest local group of survivors by leaving other survivors to fend for themselves, but someone who knows how to spin? Jackpot.
Also, the way that guy was beating up his daughter was messed up. Better separate them. They can set her up in the storeroom where they've been stashing all the wool they've gotten from the flock of sheep they saved. She can spin it while they try to figure out what to do with her, no pressure.
She, of course, cannot do that. She barely knows how to spin. Maybe. What will these guys do when they find out she can't? Throw her to the zombies?
And then she hears something from the window (barred, of course). Turns out, that side of the storehouse is up against the group's safe border. There's a zombie out there.
Heck, lets even make it a specific zombie. Let's make it the mother, back from the dead.
Zombie Mom says, through the bars and the window, I'll teach you how, but you have to promise, when you have a kid with the 2nd in command, you have to give it to me. Braaaaaaaains, you know?
Daughter: Mom, I'm not going to have a kid with him.
Zombie Mom: Don't be ridiculous. Give me grandchildren (to eat).
So, that happens, and like that, the daughter slowly learns how to actually do all the fiber arts stuff her father lied about, the amount of unspun wool in the room starts to drop, and the 2nd in command and the daughter get to know each other better... And better.... And better...
And then the daughter is like, hey, btw, my zombie mom wants to eat our kid.
Daughter: zombie mom. Eat our kid. This is easy.
And then they go out and shoot her because you don't have to play fae name games with zombies. And they all lived happily ever after with properly fitting clothes.
theartofmadeline
blakekathryn
