The Karma of Toiletries

"You must put all of your liquids in one of these bags," the Helpful Female Traveler stated, then asked "Do you have any shampoo?"

The bald Tibetan monk in saffron robes smiled and nodded understanding...

Zombies

I was having a hard time convincing myself this was same warrior I had once rode alongside. He had nearly matched my legendary stamina, was full of enthusiasm, but now seemed beaten and tired.

We had not seen him for a moon's cycle and decided to call upon his home after we returned from our most victorious campaign, to tell tales and enlist his attendance on the next adventure. The greeting at his manor door was welcoming, and open, but we soon began to realize something was amiss. Our hosts were quiet, forlorn, haggard. There was an air of uneasiness blanketing the gathering, and unspoken anticipation of dire occurrences, so we ended our visit prematurely, reasoned by pending engagements.

"It's a disease," The Bishop frowned, having kept his tongue during our brief call. "A curse, or charm perhaps, transmitted by the infected, and eagerly received by the next victims!"

The Bishop had sworn an oath, so I understood his basic misgivings for our friend's situation, but still smiled at his traditional vitriol. I, on the other hand, had no prejudice in the matter, yet still could not fathom why someone would intentionally place themselves in such a taxing and unprofitable predicament.

"But they chose this path," The Lizard countered, though her face betrayed her concern with what she had seen and heard. "I believe they did not fully fathom the depths of their undertaking. Still, we should respect their decision, and meditate for them."

I looked at The Lizard with understanding. "Perhaps we should make ourselves available for assistance, but also provide any distance they may need?"

The Lizard nodded, continuing to look concerned, as we rode away down the highway.