I never intended to become a zombie huntress; I had only intended to protest prom, high school’s last bastion of patriarchal society.

This is what my high school life had become—a horror show of epic, mind-fuck proportions.

Even as zombies, ridiculous prom gowns were the downfall of teenage girls, crippling them at the knees.

If she did bitch-slap me, I’d bitch-slap her right back, but I resented the word bitch and all its familiar forms, as it was degrading to women and dogs everywhere.

I felt bad for the girls in my school, who flocked to prom like it was the second coming of Christ, complete with double-rainbows and unicorns.

Listen up, Little Miss Fun Hater. Off the record, if it wasn’t for our school’s strict but smarmy anti-bullying laws, I would bitch-slap you into next summer.