zombies

Fucking GUNS are fucking AWESOME and when you SHOOT them at SHIT, they fucking KILL it!

...So I put it out of its misery, if it really was miserable, and tried not to think about it. That was another thing they taught us at Willow Creek: don't write their eulogy, don't try to imagine who they used to be, how they came to be here, how they came to be this. I know, who doesn't do that, right? Who doesn't look at one of those things and just naturally start to wonder? It's like reading the last page of a book... your imagination just naturally spinning. And that's when you get distracted, get sloppy, let your guard down and end up leaving someone else to wonder what happened to you.

Goons were the lowest sort of homunculi, only superior to zombies.

The world is truly a terrible place. Every one of my generation is lost, filling the holes which are their lives with seditious and yet passionless acts of unnecessary drama. It is a world of hypocrisy and whispers, a dark mine shaft of overfed, spoiled, and thankless slaves too stupid to realize that, despite their steady stream of shallow luxuries, they are still slaves.

I think I remember what love was like before. There were complex emotional and biological factors. We had elaborate tests to pass, connections to forge, ups and downs and tears and whirlwinds. It was an ordeal, an exercise in agony, but it was alive. The new love is simpler. Easier. But small.

And then, anger gave way to pure and simple job satisfaction. I mean, when I looked at a dead zombie head on a spike, I thought, "Hey, I did that. Picasso would have been proud. Especially how I rearranged that eye

All of Europe, as far as we knew, was gone. It might as well not be there anymore. Russia was gone. By the time you got to wondering where America went there just wasn't any more room for it in your brain. A world without America just couldn't happen - the global economy would collapse. Every two penny warlord and dictator in the Third World would have a field day. It just wasn't possible. It would mean global chaos. It would mean the of history as we knew it. Which was exactly what happened.

Jett Gallatin expected trouble in Alsop, Texas__ut not zombies.

What did the zombie say to the whore? Keep the tip!

The sooner the rebirth, the prettier the corpse.

If I had a dime for every time I heard someone say that they're tired of a genre (zombies) because it's only a fad, I'd be rich. #DeadRising

You know,_ I fold my arms over my chest. __ou__e quite annoying, but I guess your company is better than no company._ Keegan presses his arm against the wall beside my head and smiles. His curly black hair stands out against his pale skin. The slightest bit of sunlight finds its way inside the patio, reflecting upon his icy green eyes. His light pink lips turn up in a smile. With his mouth closed, he is actually quite attractive.

I continued toward Atlanta with a Merle Haggard C.D. playing on the stereo. They weren't great hosts, but those guys in The Ted Kaczynski Fan Club had great taste in music. It was all classic country music- none of that sissy, boy-band country that they played on the radio all the time. I drove down the road while Merle preferred to just stay where he was and drink.

Which got me to wondering whether it__ possible to learn how to be a person in a world where all the people are dead.

Mia,' she whispered. I turned around. 'What?' I whispered back.She smiled at me a little. 'LEEERRROOOY JEEENNKKIINNNSS!' she shouted, then spun around and ran toward the Z's in the lighting section.

Nine years ago I was alive. Nine years ago Jessica Anne Porter was fifteen years old.

You__e drunk. They__ arrest you on the spot._ __hat? There__ no law against driving a car when you__e drunk._ He swayed back and forth while he spoke. __esides, I__ not drunk._ __ine, you__e not drunk, but you__e been drinking and there is a law that says you can__ drive when you__e drunk. It__ called driving while intoxicated or driving under the influence or something like that. I__l drive._ __mmm_ Never heard of it. Okay- you drive.

People say talking to yourself is the first sign of madness. It's not. It's eye bloody spy.