Zombie Car Wash

This weekend was our second annual Zombie Car Wash, which actually has very little to do with brainless undead driving cars.

It's our clubs main fundraising source to be able to advertise for the dance later in October to raise money for the capital human society. Let a monster wash your car for kitties and puppies.

I decided to pull out my zombie teeth, paint them and take them on an inaugural run.

I left my left side mostly unmakeuped, so when I'd turn my head people'd get an eyefull of my teeth and freak out. One guy shouted "Jesus!" Another girl had her mother tell her, not to be scared when she came out of the bathroom stall and she slid far over to hide under the hand dryer.

A small girl with a yellow daisy pinned into her hair, watched hypnotized as I wiped down a car. So I walked over and smiled and asked her if she wanted to touch my teeth. Her lips never lifted from a most concerned contemplation, but she nodded and pushed her finger to the clay pieces and glanced up to her father.

My husband got mostly blood and bruises:

The problem with having only one person who does Halloween makeup in a family of two means it takes twice as long to get out the door. I never did get the teeth fully glued down. DAMN YOU SPIRIT GUM! I banish thee back to the hell you crawled from.

For those who can't come out to Nebraska but want to know the zombie car wash experience, it begins with a zombie canvasing up and down the road, waving his arm about.

Then the zombie lights up a stogie and sprays the hose with a borrowed power washer. Zombies had to put down zombie credit card, which is actually a flattened rat. Zombie economy difficult to understand.

Now zombies free to really shine. Soap!

And Squeege!

Sometimes zombie surprised by how scary zombie is in side mirror:

Then you give zombie $10 for hard work (we no long accept dead rat as payment) and drive off in sparkling car not covered in blood. Nope. None at all.