As you wonder how you're going to protect your super-important, delicate, yet manly brain from being a zombie hors d'oeuvre, you suddenly have a brilliant idea. Your stupid brother Greg can do all that Dispel Zombie spell bullshit, so why not have him go down and do things for you? Even if he fails, it just means one less Christmas card to dictate to Luna.
Grabbing you spirit telephone, you hit the speed dial function and say "Yo, Greg, you crippled fuck, how's it going?"
"I'm not crippled anymore. Stop calling me that."
"Yeah, okay limpy. Hey, some dumbass kingdom got a zombie infestation, so why don't you sidle over there and play exterminator, huh?"
"Did you get yourself in trouble again? I'm not bailing you out this time."
"Oh come on, bro. We're flesh and blood. You gotta help a nigga out."
"Look, last time I did something for you, you just ended up taking all the credit for it and didn't even give me anything in return."
"Pfft, well I only took credit for it because it was my idea."
"Yeah, and it was my life on the line. Nothing doing."
"Pam probably just has you whipped, you pussy little faggot. She got you wrapped around your finger. Bitches gotta know their place, man."
"I'm hanging up now. Don't call me again."
As Greg clicks his phone off at the other end, you hurl your phone at the stupid fucking cat, who just coincidentally walked into the room. God damn it, now you might actually have to solve this zombie problem yourself. At least Greg isn't getting his goddamned Christmas card this year.
So what now?
GO to that smelly kingdom and see if you can kill yourself some smelly zombies
THROW some more shit at the cat because it's pretty darn satisfying