“Neither need you tell me,” said Candy, “that we must take care of our garden.”

“You are in the right,” said Glossy; “for when we were put into this garden of Eden, it was with an intent to dress it; and this proves that mankind was not born to be idle.”

“Work then without disputing,” said Martin; “it is the only way to render life supportable.”

The little society, one and all, entered into this laudable design and set themselves to exert their different talents. The little piece of ground yielded kept them secure from external threats. Chuck indeed was very ugly, but he became an excellent hand at zombie elimination: Pacquette built fortifications; the old woman had the care of the linen. There was none, even Father Tutombo, but did some service; he was a corpse burner, and he was an honest man. Glossy used now and then to say to Candy:

“There is a concatenation of all events in the best of possible worlds; for, in short, had you not been kicked out of a fine house for the love of Miss Cunegund; had you not been put out into the Panic; had you not traveled over Central New York on foot; had you not run those zombies through head in North Syracuse; and had you not lost all your possessions when you were mugged, you would not have been here in the Blue Zone to eat mysterious-looking soy protein and wild asparagus.”

“Excellently observed,” answered Candy; “but let us cultivate our garden.”

2 responses to “Zonexistentialism”

Leave a Reply