Today is the day my Uncle, Mr. Quixada, returned for the second time. Mr. Quixada is at least what he used to be called. Now he and those travelling with him, call him Señor Don Quixote. He was not born with this title, but a few weeks ago decided he was a knight errant and left without telling any of us his intentions. He left with his horse and some needed supplies. I am absolutely sure that he has been fooled and lost his better judgment due to the fact that he was constantly reading books, fictional may I add, concerning knights errant and chivalry. Back to the present. Don Quixote, as I will refer to him as now, is in his study with his "squire" Sancho Panza. The two are most likely plotting a third venture will end worse than these last two. At the end of my uncle's first venture, he was bruised and battered, sprawled across his horse. The second, the knight was brought back locked in a cage on an oxcart, swearing he was enchanted. I do hope he takes this ordeal no farther.
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I must soon slip barricade the door before the two have a chance to escape and roam the countrysides of Spain again. I will then slip food to them under the door at nights so they do not starve and become more foolish. My uncle has believed windmills are giants; some sheep, armies; what else I do not know. How he must truly be enchanted or something of the like. I have lost all respect for this man. He used to be a quiet man; he worked the land and tended to his family. He has since left them and for what? To pillage and plunder? But my uncle I still love because he is family but I cannot wait for the foolishness to wear off. There is a third fool, a man from another city, who has already published a book and promises a sequel and tossed fame into the hooligan salad my uncle made. It certainly seems my uncle has been as changed as a human turning into a zombie. Something so simple as a reading has completely sent him into another world. He attacks random citizens, and despite this, cannot be killed. He has been tossed off his horse from such a great height I cannot comprehend how he survives. There was even a play put on in the town last week titled something like Tierra de los Zombis that mentioned my uncle's squire. Along with my uncle, Sancho has become completely numbed of all reality. All the two must desire now is brains. To think that is, not eat. The two truly must be stopped before they cause a global apocalypse of reason. I now must leave to attend church to help my family repent for the ills caused.
Goodbye my journal.
~the niece of Mr. Quixada
Uno más cosa.....No puedo hablar inglés porqué vivo en España y este diario fue traducido de un jefe de Los Estados Unidos. Su nombre es Joseph.
Joseph. How do you and Rob morph absolutely everything into something to do with zombies or the apocalypse?
ReplyDeleteI think the two of you should start rewriting the classics as zombie fiction. After you become famous, you can give me half of the profits since I gave you the idea. Thank about it ;)