Brains. Have I mentioned that before? Ichor (look it up if you don't know what it means).
What kind of Zombie are you?
You are an Evil Dead Zombie. The spirits of the dead took over your body in a lonely cabin, and now it's your job to kick some Ash ass. Sadly, while you'll succeed in beating the bejeezus out of Ash repeatedly, he will ultimately wipe you from existence. You can only be killed by bodily dismemberment.
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People with brains. Nice, juicy, large brains. Smart brains are tastier than tiny, small minded brains. Pretty brains are just sweeter than most anything.
"Might be innocent, might be sweet.
Not half as nice as rotting meat."
Oh, and to anyone who reads my blogs. I'm a writing fiend, don't you know.
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Music!:
Black Sabbath
Cannibal Corpse
Voivod
Slaughter
Edge of Sanity
Iron Maiden
Judas Priest
Rob Zombie
White Zombie
a bunch of others.
Movies!:
28 Days Later
Alien/Aliens/Alien Resurrection
Army Of Darkness
Attack Of The Killer Tomatoes 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Blade 1,2,3
Blob, The
Blood And Donuts
Boogens, The
Brotherhood Of The Wolf
Bordello Of Blood
Critters 1,2,3
Cube
Dawn Of The Dead
Decoys
Demon Seed
Dracula
Evil Dead
Evil Dead II
Feast
Frankenstein
Ginger Snaps 1,2,3
I Dismember Mama
Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter
Mummy, The
Night Of The Comet
Night Of The Living Dead
Phantasm
Resident Evil 1 & 2
Silence Of The Lambs
Slither
Split Second
Tremors
and a whole bloody heap of others
The News. The Discovery Channel. Static. Hillarious House Of Frightenstein. American Gothic.
Anything by Clive Barker, Edgar Allen Poe, Keith Laumer, and H.P. Lovecraft.
The Green Manalishi With The Two Pronged Crown. Eddie.
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Get your own countdown at BlingyBlob.com
Zombie's lame-ass excuse to break up:
"I've been secretly dating the lochness monster we've been trying to keep it on the down-lo"
'What is your lame-ass excuse to break up?' at QuizGalaxy.com
My face it is hidden by brightness of bitter day;
My name it is written by shadows of darkness.
I am the warrior who walks the path of twilight
I am the poet who shadows the wonders of daybreak.
I am the parent of actions best left unsaid.
I seek the moderate epitome of the broken wheel.
I enshroud the destinies of the mighty,
And lay low the fortunes of the lesser known.
The totality of being is in question.
Doubt of the being, is the essence of thought.
Twisted, torn, tattered and born
We, of the unloved, scattered and scorned.
Eschew, we, the dead, those of the living.
Failure, we find, amongst the green and growing.
Essence, essence, wrack and ruin,
The grounds are of the borderline insane.
Run as you might, scatter as you try.
Escape is neither option nor form.
Time will whither the weapon you rely on; perish.
As we, wicked, the wicked we are, shall squander,
Your lives, upon the soil of our fertile imagination.
Testify, your salvation is at hand; woe is;
That your fate that awaits a certain doom.
Time now, it sits before you, choose.
Be you hunter or prey?
Be you garden or gardener?
Be you fair or foul?
Either way, the zombie chickens are hunting tonight.