Husband: “If you got bit by a zombie or turned into one, I wouldn’t be able to shoot you.”

Me: “Aw!”

Husband: “I’d find somebody else to do it.”

(My wife has been working 60-hour weeks. It’s her day off, and she sleeps in until late in the afternoon. I’ve just made food and go to wake her up.)

Me: *climbs on bed, leaning over her* “Baby, wake up!”

Wife: *grumbles*

Me: “I made food!”

(She shoves her face deeper into the blankets, clearly not listening.)

Me: “So much happened while you were asleep. The aliens came and turned everyone into zombies.)

Wife: *mumbles something unintelligible*

Me: “I’m a zombie, too. And you know what zombies do right?”

Wife: *grips my forearm and begins sleepily chewing on it*

Me: “No, sweetie, I’m the zombie. I bite you. But good effort.”

(My teenage son is a notoriously fussy eater. He has just got home from school and I have made dinner.)

Me: “Eat the salad.”

Son: “No. it’s gross. I don’t like vegetables.”

Husband: “Your mother made dinner. You should eat it.”

Me: “It has meat in it.”

Son: “But they’re touching the vegetables, gross. Anyway, I’m not feeling too well. I think I’ll just go to bed.”

(He takes an uncharacteristically early night, and I do the dishes, before my husband and I settle down in front of the TV. Every channel is alarmingly indicating that the zombie apocalypse has started. I am about to go warn my son, when I see him shuffling down the stairs, with a dead look in his eyes.)

Me: “[Son]?”

(He merely grunts, wanders over to the salad, sniffs out the meat, and starts eating it. My husband walks slowly backwards and get a kitchen knife.)

Me: “[Husband]! No, don’t!”

Husband: “It’s hard to accept, I know, dear. But our son isn’t our son anymore.”

Me: “Yes, I know, but at least wait a minute!”

Husband: “Why!?”

Me: “He’s finally eating my salad!”

(The zombie apocalypse has started, and I am begrudgingly being driven by my wife in our van to collect her parents and take them somewhere safe. My best friend is in the van with us.)

Me: “Typical. Zombie apocalypse starts and it’s yet another excuse to spend time with the in-laws.”

Wife: “Be quiet! There are zombies on the road; I need to concentrate!”

Me: “What if they’ve already been zombified? We’ll have wasted time and fuel!”

Wife: “Shush! I already spoke to them on the phone. They know we’re coming.”

(We finally get there, to see the house surrounded by zombies. We honk the horn, which distracts the zombies just enough for my father-in-law to dash outside and get in the van.)

Father-In-Law: “Quick! Drive!”

Wife: “What about mom!?”

Father-In-Law: “There’s nothing we can do for your mother now.”

(Suddenly we hear a gunshot. We all look to see my mother-in-law, wielding a shotgun, ploughing her way through the zombie horde. She looks furious. She makes it into the van and we start driving away.)

Mother-In-Law: *to father-in-law* “Nice try, Harold.”

(My father-in-law sulks, and turns his attention to my best friend.)

Father-In-Law: “Are we going to go save your wife now?”

Best Friend: *breaks down into tears* “My wife was killed by a zombie!”

Father-In-Law: *mutters under his breath* “Lucky…”

(My teenage sister and I are in the mall when the zombie apocalypse starts. We have found a safe spot, and are frantically calling our dad to come and pick us up.)

Sister: “Dad, please! You have to come and get us at the mall!”

Dad: “It’s always the same with you and your sister! It’s always ‘I want this’ and ‘I need this.’”

Sister: “But dad! It’s the zombie apocalypse!”

Dad: “Bah! Excuses! In my day we walked!”

(I suddenly have an idea, and grab the phone.)

Me: “Dad, before we went out, [Sister] stole $20 from your wallet.”

Dad: “What?!”

Me: “Yeah, and she used it to buy a tiny bikini.”

Dad: “WHAT?!”

Me: “Also, I forged my report card. I didn’t get all A’s this semester; in fact I failed some of my classes.”

Dad: “You two are sooooo grounded! You’re not allowed to have any more fun today!”

Me: “But we were about to go to the beach to test out our new innapropriate swimwear.”

Dad: “You will most certainly not! You’re at the mall? Wait there and don’t you dare move! I’m coming to get you!” *click*

Sister: “None of those things are true!”

Me: “Yes, but now he’s coming to get us.”

Sister: “But now we’re grounded!”

(Just then, we hear a zombie horde crash through the glass in another part of the mall.)

Me: “Planning on going outside any time soon?”

Sister: “Fair point…”