10 Little Indians Lyrics
One little, two little, three little Indians
Four little, five little, six little Indians
Seven little, eight little, nine little Indians
Ten little Indian boys.
Ten little, nine little, eight little Indians
Seven little, six little, five little Indians
Four little, three little, two little Indians
One little Indian boy.
That is such a sweet little innocent song. Don’t you think? I know I do. That is why when I saw the book “Ten Little Zombies: A Love Story”, I just HAD to have it! I thought this was going to be a cute sweet little book that is more in tune with the times. I was terribly, terribly wrong.
We have a little zombie obsession at my house. I have been reading zombie books and watching zombie movies for as long as I can remember. And up until recently, I was alone in my obsessive quest for Zombie-related knowledge. But thanks to the video game “Plants vs. Zombies”, and the TV show “The Walking Dead”, my family has joined me on my quest to destroy the brain-eating, entrails-chomping, grunting and growling undead.
Being as my daughter is only 5 we don’t let her watch “Walking Dead”. And it’s not because I don’t think she could handle it, but I don’t think I could handle it. The last thing I need is to be woken up at all hours of the night by my daughter’s blood curdling screams. Maybe we’ll let her watch it when she’s 6. But 5? 5’s still a little on the young side.
I guess I shouldn’t really be all that surprised at my daughter joining me in my fixation. After all, I did read “The Zombie Survival Guide” when I was 7 months pregnant with her. And we’ve all heard that what you eat affects your baby, and what you listen to affects your baby. So… by that logic, my daughter probably knows just as much about zombies as I do. Her DNA has been saturated with weapon selection (shotguns, duh…), survival tactics, and long-term solutions for how to recreate civilization. She surely instinctively knows the pros and cons of rifles, machetes and flamethrowers, and will consider the optimal defensive positions for various types of outbreaks. She and I will dominate any future zombie outbreaks. The hubby knows some stuff, but is not cut out for the hand-to-hand combat. He will have to stick to roofs and shrubbery. The man is a born sniper.
Where am I going with all this zombie information you ask?? Well I want you to know what you’re dealing with, and I want you to see why I did what I did. It all started out innocently enough. A zombie toy here, some car decals there. Yes, I have these on my car. Right next to my “My Dog is Buddhist” bumper-sticker. My kid loves them!
So after the toys and the decals, a zombie book seemed like the next logical choice. That’s when I saw this book on Amazon.
The reviews were wonderful. I knew Mini Me would just be ecstatic! Let’s check out some of the reviews together:
“I had originally bought this book for myself, to add to my zombie library, but apparently the drawing scheme and such is perfect for newborns! I read this to my daughter every day (during daylight, don't need her having zombie nightmares at 2 months old, LOL!), and she pays AMAZING attention to it! Even when I count out the zombies for her, she watches my fingers as I point them out. Her favorite part is apparently Kevin... Something about splatter I guess. :D Good job! It's a quick read as an adult, but any true zombie aficionado will appreciate this... Don't have time to read long, boring epic novels while running from the undead! Definitely worth the purchase!”
But this is what Dan wrote: (←---- This is the review I DIDN’T read):
I wasn't sure from the reviews if this was an adult book with a kids theme or if you could really read it to kids. If you're a helicopter parent, then this is not for your kids. If your kids help your dress your own deer and help you pick out which cow we're going to eat this winter like mine, then the blood in the pages isn't any big deal. There's more I'd worry about in an episode of CSI than I would this book.
It's funny, has plenty of carnage, and has a love story at the end. It's cute and I'm glad I bought it.
So I told my daughter all about the cool new Zombie book that mommy just bought her. She was ecstatic! We waited in anticipation for its arrival from Amazon. Every day we checked the mail, and for everyday it wasn’t there our excitement grew. Then one day it came. I handed the small shipping envelope to my daughter in the back seat and she ripped open the envelope with a fury usually only reserved for Holidays like Christmas and Easter. She was so excited and I was just as excited to read it to her. We brought our new little “prize” home and then somehow got distracted and left it on the kitchen table. A couple of hours later after my husband came home from work Mini Me remembered that mommy had bought her a cool new book.
“Mommy, will you read me the Zombie book?” she asked in all her innocence.
“Of course I will, you perfect child you,” I said while looking lovingly at my blonde haired angel. I sat down on the couch with my cherub of a child and started reading.
“Ten little zombies walking in a line…”
Oh my God that is so cute; Look at those cute little Zombies, I thought to myself…
“One stepped in a campfire and now there are nine.”
What the fuck…?
And there it was, in full color, on page 3: A cute little zombie, engulfed in flames. And there was nothing I could do to help it.
“Nine little Zombies climbing up a gate.”
Oh, crap. I know where this is headed.
“One fell on a fence spear; now there are eight.”
Complete with drawing of bloody, impaled Zombie.
“Eight little Zombies chasing after Kevin.
Kevin shot his shotgun and now there are seven.”
At this point, my husband was in the living room, just a few feet away from where I was reading to my daughter.
“Stacy, what are you reading?”
“Ummm… Ten Little Zombies,” I informed him.
“Mommy, keep reading!”
Now I know my husband didn’t want me to continue but my audience wanted more. I just couldn’t let her down.
This is how the rest of the little Zombies died (*SPOILER ALERT*):
Zombie # 7: Crushed by a statuary.
Zombie # 6: Run over by a car.
Zombie # 5: Melted by acid.
Zombie # 4: Shredded by a chainsaw.
Zombie # 3: Blown up by a hand grenade.
Zombie #2: Perforated by a nail gun.
As for the last little Zombie?
“One little zombie closing in on you.
[But you’re] tangled in the barbwire. Now there are two.”
As it shows a Zombie chewing on a little girl’s leg.
“Two little Zombies coming after me.
Can’t bear to destroy you. Now there are three.
My daughter stood up and applauded, screaming “Author! Author!” But my husband was none too pleased. I could feel his judging glare from across the room. I had messed up.
“Maybe I should have looked through the book before I read it to her?” I asked, batting my eyelashes and trying to look innocent. He didn’t buy it.
I ended up putting “Ten Little Zombies” on a shelf where my daughter couldn’t find it until she was mature enough to not be scared. Apparently she has already hit that growth spurt because she loves those crazy ten little gory Zombies. And my husband, well I caught him recently reading my daughter the book. My kid may not pick her own cow to slaughter, or dress her own dear. But she sure as hell can build one hell of a Dakota Hole and knows that if Zombies get into your home you should hold up upstairs and then light the staircase on fire so they can’t get to you. Don’t forget to fill your upstairs bathtubs full of water - you can get might thirsty battling the undead.
So, no. I’m not a helicopter mom. But I’m also no parent of the year. I am human. A living, breathing human who sometimes makes mistakes. A living, breathing mistake-making human that knows a shotgun is way better than a chainsaw when you need to take down the living dead. And that, my friends, is what makes me valuable as a wife and a mother. BRRRRRAAAAAIIIINNNNNSSSS!!