The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

My Zombie Roomy (10/5/12)

This is going to seem very wrong. Well, it is very wrong. I’m sort of playing God here, and while part of me likes the sensation (SUCH POWER!!!), part of me knows that I am creeping myself out.

At first I was disgusted and ashamed. But by the end of it, well, I had put on a silly hat, a bathrobe over my work clothes, and a fake name tag that said, “call me … Ishmael.”

What was I working on that led to this? This list. This … food list.

I have never been a fan of the Zombie’s eating habits, because I don’t particularly like it when people come to an untimely end. Especially an untimely end via unbrushed teeth. Can you imagine? Super gross.

BUT … Stay with me here … Some people are worse than others. Again, who am I to judge? But, then again, who else will advise the Zombie? Is someone who teaches children, greets everyone with a smile, and is a doting father better than a creepy certain someone who has two dogs who howl all night and when asked if they could maybe do something about it responds, ‘I guess I could, but I won’t’? Who is to say?

I mean, who’s to say … hypothetically. Because, obviously, I have said.

Ok. I’m back to being disgusted with myself. I’ll write more about this later when I’m feeling less like the devil. On the positive side: cliffhanger! Who doesn’t love/hate a good cliffhanger?

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Comments on: "My Zombie Roomy (10/5/12)" (2)

  1. To answer your question at the end of the post: Sylvester Stallone?

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