I’m not sure she realizes what she’s asking of me. I hate zombies with a passion. Whether fighting them off the cramped hallways of Citadel Station, dismembering them in the depths of an Argentine mine, or dodging their shambling pursuit in the temple of Mantorok, these stinking mockeries of life are the bane of my existence. And maybe that sounds a little intolerant, but, honestly, who likes zombies?
No, if there is one area in which I am firmly and unapologetically bigoted, it is zombies. Them and Nazis. And don’t even get me started on Nazi Zombies.
So there ya go, matrixx. You’ve stumbled on a real sore point for me. It’s ugly, but the truth often is. I like to think I’m a tolerant man, but I have to draw the line somewhere. Bring up zombies, and I start looking around for a shotgun and a box of shells. I cold-cocked a guy once just for standing behind me and whispering “brains”. You can’t be too careful. I swear to god, if one of my kids ever brings one of those damned dirty zombies home for dinner, I’ll disown them on the spot. Just as soon as I’m done incinerating the what’s left of the zombie, that is.