I never quite imagined my career going in this general direction, but here I was: Acting Legal Director for a major DC government agency. I knew there was nothing I’d done to deserve this promotion, but now that I was pulling a GS-14, I didn’t really think about it too much. I was sitting pretty with this gig. Even though I did feel a little odd about the whole thing.
Why was I the only one that didn’t get fired? Why did the Mayor and Dr. Cadore come see me in person? All I’ve done is write that stupid memo on Undead Rights. Why me? If I’m being used, I’d prefer it to be in the sexual manner, but at least I can get a bigger apartment now…

You should never look a gift horse in the mouth. Even if it’s a Trojan horse.

“Betsy, do we have any scheduled appointments today,” I called out on the intercom. [The first order of business upon being named AD was the installation of intercoms. The second order of business was instituting the Mad Men policy – drinking and smoking and having sex with your secretary were now encouraged. {Betsy wasn’t down with the sex or drinking part, but was happy to smoke. I was smoking up a storm and drinking a lot of Laphroaig.}]

“Nothing today, Robert,” she called back over the intercom.

Truth be told, ever since the ZCA rounded up the zombie masses, things had been pretty quiet around the office. Just the normal call from the Post (“Nothing new to report, all is good on the homefront,” I’d report), and the occasional Form D-37 to follow up on. I may as well be the Sheriff of Antarctica.

There has got to be a way to make things more interesting around here, I though.

“Betsy,” I called out, “we need interns! Can you post a wanted ad, please?”

“Sure thing boss-man, but what in Gods name are you going to do with interns?” she asked, “It’s dead around here. And we don’t have much of a budget since you got us these intercoms…”

“Just post the ad, Betsy. ‘Wanted: UNPAID interns for the District Department of Undead Management.’ You know, it kinda has a nice ring to it. anyways, we’ll figure out the rest later.”

At least I’d have people to go to happy hour with…

I was about to get up and go out for some food truck stalking when the phone rang. It was Dr. Cadore.

“I trust you are not too busy Mr. Acting Director Dingle,” he said.

“No sir, I seem to have things pretty much under control,” I said, proudly.

“Well, it appears as though we have a new opponent.”

“Really? What’s next, Vampires?!?” I asked, you could hear the smirk on my face.

“Don’t be so sophomoric Mr. Dingle. No, not vampires, they do not exist. It’s the ACLU. It seems they have set up protests around the perimeter of out Zombie encampment.”

“The ACLU? What the hell are they doing here? I know it’s DC and all, but since when did the ACLU care about zombies?” I said, incredulously.

“Well, Mr. Robert, it seems they have been eating more Wheaties than you have. They are challenging the Mayor’s new laws on confidentiality and are saying that the confinement is unconstitutional. It would be wise for YOUR office to issue a press release stating the opposite. Yes?”

“Um, yes?!?!” I mustered.

“They have signs, Robert! They read, ‘Zombes Were People Too!’ you must handle this immediately!”

“Fuck! I guess we’ll need those interns after all,” I said out loud as I hung up the phone.

“Betsy! Get me the Washington Post, the Examiner and the Onion. It’s time for a good ol’ fashioned press release!”

I had no idea what I was going to tell the papers but that didn’t seem to matter much right now. I’ve never been much of a planner.
Besides, I have a new enemy, the ACLU. I’d harldy given them a thought since law school and I’ve always half hearted appreciated their work, but now they’re screwing up my afternoon. And that ain’t cool.

Be warned: the easiest way to piss off the government is to make them do their job. I had planned on playing Angry Birds this afternoon, now that’s down the crapper.

I’m pissed, and it’s all the fault of the goddam ACLU…fuck them.

“The Post is on line 1, The Onion is on line 2, Robert,” Betsy said.

I clicked over to 1 and cleared my throat. “Hi, Robert Dingle here at DDUM. We have no comment. Though It appears as if the ACLU is going to be denied a permit by the Disrtict to protest this thing. But you guys already knew that, right?” I hung up and switched over to line 2.

“Hey, I love your work, by the way. So. Wouldn’t it be hilarious if a bunch of hippies got infected while trying to set the zombies free of their “unlawful” confinement, causing a larger zombie infestation? Just saying – off the record of course – it would be funny. It’s not like that’s what the ACLU is doing or anything…”

I complimented the staff for the Joe Biden series, then hung up. I sat back in my chair and folded my arms over my head.

“So this is what it feels like to get things done at work,” I said with a smile.

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