The first item in his inbox was another rejection

The first item in his inbox was another rejection from the New Yorker. They had no interest in his zombie stories, zombie cartoons, or zombie theater reviews. The next message

was from Mad Magazine. "Your submitted items have no intrinsic value, makes no sense whatever, has no effective time line. Perfect for our rag but, "We don't do Zombies" cease and

"desist from this embalming right now young man. Its a zombie. It ain't dead." So then I let the creature up and handed back its organs. "So what do we do for them then?" He

said, " We'll help them find jobs." "But they're Zombies!" I retorted, "repulsive, soulless, heartless, gutless creatures that eat people alive." "Exactly" he said."They'd be great

paparazzi." "You're right," I conceded. "I'll get them jobs at TMZ." On the zombies' first night, they attacked Ke$ha outside a nightclub, only to discover she had no brains. But

It wasn't really interested in brains, but very keen on gold chains. Instead of devouring people innocently waiting for a train, the Ke$ha zombie would try to take their necklaces

and throw them down the drain, thereby making it rain upon those to who the water in their sinks flowed, ending in Spain. The necklaces had carefully been lain on those who were

recovered from the deluge. Their bloated bodies found floating in the streets turned to canals were draped with the flotsam rosaries. It was the least the second story survivors

would have to eat, since they'd finished up the hospital's nursery ward. Still, some argued later that they shouldn't have been SO quick to resort to cannibalism.