"Zombie freak out," I said.
My wife, who is used to such unprovoked outbursts, stared at the road ahead, ignoring me. The silence sat between us until she couldn't stand it any longer. "Okay," she asked. "So what's a zombie freak out?"
"I have this idea. We need to get about ten to twelve people together and dress them up as zombies."
She waited. She waited a bit longer. "And?"
"And we turn them loose in different places. Maybe one night let them wander through a car lot on a busy road; another night we could all go to the airport, maybe they can hang out in the bathroom there like Sen. Larry Craig; another night we could all go to a local McDonalds, maybe all of us just order the Apple Pie. Who knows, maybe it could get popular. We could put an ad in the local paper advertising future zombie freakouts."
She nodded. "Zombie freak out," she said. "Cool."
Another ten miles of silence. "Vampire Wilding."
She didn't ask.