A PLAGUE OF STROLLING CHINCHILLAS
by Matthew Sanborn Smith
Vampires, zombies, the undead in general, it was all a load of hooey and any mention of it would get you laughed off even the most ratings-desperate talk-show. We're talking humans, of course. Chinchillas . . . now that was another matter.
We'd narrowed down the source of the problem to an unknown Haitian Voodoo priest we referred to as Doctor Rodent. It made sense, I suppose, a member of the poorest nation in the world, turning the luxuries of the richest against them. We just called him a terrorist to make it easy.
It started in New York, Palm Beach, L.A., bastions of real fur love. Chinchilla coats, wraps, muffs, what have you, peeled themselves into their constituent parts and wandered off into the closest thing to their living forms as possible. No minks were affected, no foxes or rabbits. Just chinchillas.
People freaked of course. It was all over the news for days. The animal rights people thought it was justice, pure and simple. The awful part was that it wasn't just their furs. Bones started crawling from landfills. Some muscle tissue crawled out of people's stomach's (That was pretty gross. I had no idea that was happening.) Chinchilla parts rose from the dead all across the country and the parts met up with each other once more, to make, if not entire chinchillas, then as reasonable a facsimile as they were then capable.
The worst part was the way they moved. They didn't run. Nor did they shamble. They strolled. You could hit them with a shovel or blast them with a shotgun but still they strolled. And if you've ever seen a strolling zombie chinchilla, you know that it's beyond chilling. It's chinchilling.
Most of the hysteria died down once people realized the chinchillas weren't out to kill them. They just wanted what the rest of us want: to eat sleep and get laid. In fact, that simple and well chronicled lifestyle caught on even more so with the rest of us. If there had to be a choice between wearing furs or getting more action, I'd have to say that someone up there, or over there (Haiti) made the right decision.