50+ Lifestyles

Just Saying…

By Q.C. Jones

Walking the Dead Out of Deadlines

One of the central concerns of my life as a writer and sometime journalist is the deadline. At any moment, I may be juggling 5, 10, or more deadlines of various kinds. In many ways these things resemble the zombies from The Walking Dead. Allow me to recap the storyline.

The Walking Dead broadcasts the tales of Rick Grimes, a country sheriff’s deputy who awakens from a blow on the head and finds himself knee-deep in a zombie apocalypse.  Rick manages to find his family and serves as the leader of a mismatched band of others as they fight for survival against “walkers,” aka the zombies.

Time after time, Rick and his little group are minding their own business, seemingly just relaxing, enjoying daily life, everything seems safe, and then, out of nowhere a zombie appears. They jump into action and “dispatch” the foul-smelling creature. Following each of these dramatic episodes, things seem to return to normal.  But they, and their audience realizes it is just a matter of time before another pack of these undead creatures must again be killed.

On a side note, killed is probably not the proper term.  Officially, the zombies are already dead. At one time, they were normal folks, but through the mysterious, marvels of some exotic virus they reanimate after death, and return to an undead state. Oh, and something else, like your pal QC Jones after a long winter’s nap, zombies wake up hungry. Instead of craving the bacon and eggs special from Rock’s Anchor Grill, zombies lack any breakfast cravings and want to eat human brains.

This very morning, QC had a zombie-like experience. I went to bed last night feeling safe and secure. The deadlines were far away and removed.  The combination of the AC and a lovely late summer cooldown were a lullaby for immediate and deep sleep.  I woke from a great and restful slumber.  As I downed my first cup of coffee and stumbled through day 789 of my Spanish lessons, I was fully relaxed and ready for a great day.  I was trimming my signature moustache when in the corner of my mind’s eye, I felt a flash. Something wasn’t right. The flash became more outlined and there it was. A deadline.

Like the undead zombies Deputy Rick deals with, this deadline appeared to be live and approaching me from the corner of my shower. The beast chanted, “Brains, brains, must eat brains…” I knew in a moment, this thing had to be dealt with.  I had to come up with an article quick, very quick, or the thing would be the death of me.

Rushing to the car and driving for the “world headquarters” of all things QC Jones, my soon to be devoured brain was half steering and half brainstorming ideas.  But there was a problem, no matter how hard I tried, the only visions passing through my mind were those of my last Korean Zombie movie.  I tried to redirect my thoughts toward something pithy about the month of September, surely something would surface.

I had a flashback to September of 1972. A younger version of QC Jones was shuffling down John Street in Champaign, Illinois, headed to college. The weather was lovely, there were pretty co-eds on the same sidewalk, and all seemed good with the world.  Determined to follow this daydream to Nirvana and a great article, I watched this “out of body” scene from a perch some 50 feet above street level.

Using the power of telepathy, I direct my listening away from the street sounds and other distractions and focused on my younger self. I noticed that I was whistling a nervous tune.  Listening more closely, it was “War” by Edwin Starr, a 1970 hit and a bit of a mantra. The nervousness in the tone and voice of my whistle forced me to redouble my efforts; this time tuning into my deepest thoughts. What was bothering the young QC on his trek to school? Then it hit me like a fully loaded cement truck.

I was battling a now familiar beast.  The undead deadline of signing a form required to finalize an important class.  Conjuring up the words of the late great Glenn Frey and the Eagles song Hotel California, “I stab it with my steely knives, but I just can’t kill the beast…” These deadlines have haunted me all my adult life.

Zombie killing requires a sharp knife or a high-powered weapon to decapitate the beast. Killing the undead which pursue me requires time at the keyboard.

As I write this last sentence, the lifeblood, assuming zombies or deadlines have such, is draining from its twisted distorted undead body. Another one bites the dust.

My apologies to my editor. I am now zombie and deadline free. Just saying… QC Jones