zombies

You can take that needle out of my leg now. I'd like to pull up my pants.

Each time a girl approached the table, Mortimer would smile. Like this: And each time the girl would shriek and run away.

At first we didn__ know what to call them. Most called them zombies, but it didn__ seem right, because unlike their fictional counterparts, they didn__ hunger for flesh. Others called them demons, sent back from the underworld to the world of the living after a lifetime of sin. Ghosts, spirits, the possessed, one thing was certain: the dead were dead no longer_ _ A.J.Hill

If a responsible, mentally sound American wants to own and AR-15, that__ their right. Besides, when the zombies come_okay, you don__ like the zombie thing. When the Chinese invade our country, who do you want to depend on? The over-extended police force and the National Guard? Or the next door neighbor who__ a former Marine and has enough guns and ammunition for your entire block?

Hey, Ms. P," Tad called, "what's going on?"She let out a slow breath before she answered. "You won't believe this... Brian Murrey tried to eat Scott Morgan."Nick's eyes widened at the unexpected explanation. Had he heard that right?

New from Ronco, the Zomb-Matic adjustable dead. Choose how much of uncle Willy comes back to eat you!!! People like it when they have some control over how quickly they are consumed by guilt, or a dead loved one...

This is how the zombie apocalypse starts," Cas said. "You don't screw with death, yo!

Plus, I wondered if any of these celebrities were alive; or if Brangelina was now a zombified couple.

Mindless violence against the undead?_ said Zzzap. __ount me in.

Where did you find that one?""I have no idea. I'm a magnet for crazies, I guess.""They must be able to sense a kindred spirit.""Your one to talk. Don't you have more hordes of the undead to lead in a glorious revolution?""Zombies not undead. There's a fine distinction. And no. Right now I'm scouting new talent. The glorious revolution comes tomorrow.

The whole right side of his face was smashed in, concave forehead and crushed cheekbone and one eye bugging precariously from a broken socket. He was purplish-black, and dirty white: Maggots seethed from every pore and crawled across him in excited wriggly piles, blowflies waving and blooming and wilting, the bits of bone they'd scraped clean glinting like tiny mosaic tiles. Scraps of jeans and a leather jacket clung to the sticky seething mess of his flesh. He was big, big shouldered, a good foot taller; chit-chitter, he went, even standing still.

The more I know about people, the more I love zombies.

They were all looking at him with an unpronounceable hunger. Actually it was a lot like the faces you see in porn, but with less certainty of the course of action. It was as if they couldn't decide whether to fuck him first, and then eat him, or the other way around. Except that probably wouldn't work as well.

Good french cooking cannot be produced by a zombie cook.

He wasn't my type -- my type was more the skinny hipster boys in girl jeans and thick glasses, a.k.a. the first ones to go during the outbreak -- but the sight still had me staring.

That's what's happening... zombies are out... but in hour movie... not in series.

All myths have a basis in fact

When you see zombies, they're typically in a horde. A big group close together, as if they were just holding hands before you saw them and they quickly let go.