Chapter 5: The Hustler

Zombie Dad couldn’t sit still for a second.

He had more nervous energy than a six-year-old hopped up on Mountain Dew. One minute, he’d be pacing the living room, the next, flipping through Dad’s old yearbooks or organizing Mom’s sewing supplies for no reason at all.

Sometimes muttering nonstop, sometimes crying and laughing to himself.

At night, I’d hear him in the next room, giggling at his own jokes or sobbing softly, his voice muffled behind the closed door. The sound unsettled me more than any horror movie.

I worried there was something wrong with his head.

I started to wonder if maybe we should see a doctor, but we didn’t have money for that—and who’d believe my story anyway?

Just listen to what he says—

He rambled on about ideas that made less and less sense as the days went by.

"The three things to get rich after time-travel: soap, glass, and salt."

He made lists on scraps of junk mail, muttering about cornering the market on everyday stuff. I caught him googling ‘how to start a soap empire’ on my old tablet.

"But I’m empty-handed, all alone, can’t get the raw materials… Forget it, forget it."

He’d sigh, crumple up the paper, and toss it in the overflowing trash can.

"How about setting up a food truck?"

He eyed the driveway like he could manifest one out of thin air.

"…Tch, I only ever cared about eating and watching, how could I remember the recipes? Forget it."

He snapped his fingers, disappointed, as if he’d missed his chance at fame on a reality cooking show.

After hearing a few lines, I just shook my head and walked away.

Some people dream big; he just dreamed weird. I had enough on my plate, so I left him to his schemes.

Zombie Dad wasn’t cut out for a normal life.

If the world needed more hustlers, he’d fit right in, but mowing lawns or stocking shelves at Walmart? Not gonna happen.

Didn’t chop wood, didn’t work, just snuck around all day, lazy as can be.

He’d nap on the porch swing, feet up, while the rest of us hustled to get by. I started to resent the way he took everything for granted.

Sooner or later, he’d starve.

No matter how strange or stubborn, you can’t eat air. I just hoped he’d realize that before it was too late.