Zombie Chipmunks

It was night. I went upstairs to change into my sweats. There was a dead chipmunk on the scatter rug outside of my bathroom. I screamed and went to get Gregg to see if he would be kind enough to dispose of it. He was.

The next afternoon I went into the backyard with Ray to check on the weather. He was sniffing delicately at something on the ground. It was a dead chipmunk with it's entrails trailing. I went inside and got a bag and some paper towels to take care of the corpse. I called Gregg.
"Where did you bury the chipmunk last night?" I asked (he insists on a proper burial for all dead things).
"It was over by the shed, but I'm not really sure where. It was pretty dark when I buried it," he replied.
I went to look for the tiny grave and, sure enough, it had been disturbed.

I called my BFF, Joanne.
"Hey," I said, "Are there zombie chipmunks?"
"Well," she replied, "There are zombie people, I don't know why there wouldn't be zombie chipmunks. Why do you ask?"
I explained the situation.
"Well, there's only one sure way to tell," she said, "Has it tried to eat your brains?"
"Not to my knowledge," I replied.

I'm not taking any chances though. Tonight I sleep with the light on.