It is my specious pleasure to be addressing you in the fullness of time. My name is Zombie Orwell. You will be hearing a lot from me in the coming months as we ratchet up the intensity of our Zombie Rights Revolution.
I wish all of you safe human-hunting. Please message me (ZOMBIEORWELL@GMAIL.COM) if you have questions or free tacos.
When they were still predeceased citizens, the Allman Brothers wrote a song which I will paraphrase:
Lord I was born a ramblin zombie,
Tryin to make a livin and doin the best I can to overthrow the human-centric hegemony that suffocates my people.
It was a good song. But they're probably all dead now. One of them had a kid with Cher (who's also probably dead). That kid (who's probably dead) formed a band of zombies called Deadsy.
ANYway, I've spent the last few weeks shambling away from the filthy filthy filthy filthy streets of Chicago. I loved it with much specious and Orwellian grandeur. Alas, time has come to be ramblin on.
So I made my way to a tiny town called North Branch, Minnesota. The air's a lot cleaner and a little colder. The humans aren't as likely to stumble around in a drunken stupor. Everybody is either older than 35 or younger than 20. Nothing in the middle. The soil is sandy. Good for growing potatoes, they say. It's fine for now, but humans aren't as plentiful nor as densely packed as they are in Chicago. It makes the thrill of the hunt a bit more thrillier.
Soon I'll be shamblin on to Japan. Land Of The Writhing Son, they call it. There are two jokes I could make right now.
1: I'd prefer a writhing daughter!! (How's THAT for heteronormative?!?)
2: Why's he writhing? Probably because he just got attacked by ZOMBIE FUCKING ORWELL!!
If you have suggestions about good hunting grounds in North Branch or Japan, or just cool shits to do, please inform my corporealness with all due haste. Until that time, I'll just keep shambling.