Grandiose Romanticism or Politics: Zombies Drinking Lattes
The fact that in all zombie stories, we are the zombies seems to get lost in the tales of the survivors. We are the masses of unthinking, brain-eating undead creatures shambling about looking for the living. Next season, I hope they give the hordes of flesh connoisseurs access to a zombie Faceborg and the allegory will be updated.
Andy disassembled his weapon with lighting speed. He packed it away in the black backpack made specifically for a weapon of this sort. He bolted to the roof access door as fast as his little, chubby legs would carry him. He made his way through the condo/office building stairwell without being noticed just as he had done on his way up. Andy was good at his job. And for a nine-month-old baby, he was really good at it.