Zombies need instant gratification, like a dog that humps your leg or a masturbating monkey; no time for seduction like those smoldering vampires who’ve been waiting centuries just, for, YOU. These days zombies run around in packs, shrieking and flailing about, like goddamned frat boys in Ensenada; not a lonely, misunderstood Frankenstein monster trudging through his weary existence. A zombie’s only concern is eating brains, they don’t care that they’re zombies, unlike the tortured werewolf, whose self-loathing makes you want to hold him like a baby as he shudders back into his human form. Mummies aren’t sexy either, but they were once royalty, so you at least want them to notice you. Zombies aren’t mummies, their dummies. Anyone who survives a zombie outbreak does so by being a smart, fearless, risk taker, able to cast off interpersonal relationships at the sound of a door splintering, ...just like life.
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