While his head was being chewed—although "chewed" isn't exactly the correct term. What do you call it when the zombie grasps the head, one thumb in each ear, and bites into the eyebrow then slowly pulls back and wiggles his head so as to tear the furry morsel away from the customer's skull? Well, "attack" will have to do. While the zombie was moaning and chewing off the man's eyebrow, the man turned to me and said," Pardon, but I couldn't help but notice their is a life-impaired individual snacking on my prefrontal lobe. Be a chap and call a physician of sorts or hand me a spade that I might do this ruffian in."
The second eyebrow came off less easily, a large shred of cheek and temple pulling away with it. The zombie plucked one of the man's ears off and ate it like a potato chip. "Quite rude of him, don't you think? I was still using that ear."
The cashier had finished ringing up the elderly woman in front of the attacked man, so I nudged around the zombie and paid for my corn chips and left. Behind me I heard the man shout, "Ta. Best of luck next time. Serves me right for shopping in the city."
These zombies have gotten to be a real menace. Always barging in, breaking windows, tracking mud everywhere. Do you know how much I've spent on window-glass this past year?
Something has got to be done.
I've heard some of my colleagues put forward a plan to isolate the lot of them and ship them to an island somewhere. But, the rebuttal is made, then no one will want to go there. What will happen to said island's tourist industry? Who can afford to become "Zombie Island"?
But I think I have a solution. England. We can ship them all to England.
Let's look at the primary characteristics of zombies:
Now, if you'll look at the above list, you'll see that all of these characteristics apply to the British as well.
This is clearly the solution to the Zombie problem. Also, if I might be so bold, it appears to be the answer to the unspoken British problem, too. Two birds, one stone. All that.
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