“…everything was shut off. We weren’t supposed to be there…”
“…everything was shut off. We weren’t supposed to be there…”
Zombies eat our brains, right? So it’s only fair that we should get to nibble on them as well.
“…Everyone you know is going to hate you now and you are probably going to hate yourself…”
“… During the off-season, it was a mental hospital…”
“…Our old lives of electronics and amusements and the stupid jobs we did to pay for them was all gone. Just like that…”
“…what is important is what we do inside the prisons where we find ourselves. (I feel the vomit rising in my throat at I type such odiously cheap and optimistic sentiments.) …”
“…The party was getting loud and out of hand… Then I heard a gunshot…”
“…I resumed my dream job which was taking apart greasy filthy machinery in order to salvage their screws, which is only slightly more demeaning than the job I do during my waking life…”
“…Nothing was happening here at all. It was a cultural low pressure zone…”
I’ve often wondered if my 1990 Electra Glide will take me to the grave but didn’t think it might be the actual vessel used. Shows how little imagination I sometimes have.
This youngun’ – shot dead while young enough to leave a beautiful corpse – was allegedly embalmed and mounted on his favorite motorcycle to lie in state. Even if this is a hoax, it’s a pretty fun one, eh?
My psyche wasn’t crafted for conventions – too many actual humans, far too close and in the case of writer’s conventions, humans who are mostly ape-shit crazy.