My kid asked me today, “What used to happen to people when they died?”
I said, “What do you mean?”
“Daddy,” she said, exasperated at my obtuseness as only a five year old can be, “now they turn into zombies but they didn’t always, so what did they used to turn into?”
“Angels.” My wife said it in her ‘and that’s final’ voice.
She was quiet for a while, my daughter. Then, finally, she said. “I don’t think I could do it.”
“What, honey?” my wife asked.
“Shoot an angel in the head. They can fly so it’d be harder.”