Whats to say? I was homeless. I got offered

Whats to say? I was homeless. I got offered a job doing medical experiments. It involved zombies. I did some stuff and I am here now and they ain't. That is all I can say about it.

I didn't give the story to the media for it to be about me. The story is about the experiments the government and some others are conducting on zombies. I had to kill that many to

realize one of those zombies might be my Nana or my Pappi. They were all somebody's baby. Just because they had lost their humanity didn't mean I had to lose mine. This story is im

-printed in the consciousness of every survivor in this wasteland. We've all lost someone. And we're all just trying to trudge on. I lowered my rifle previously trained on the zomb

And considered that we could work together to ensure our mutual future. I've been thinking about this for some time, a resistance movement against those in power who Pit us agains

-t each other for their sheer enjoyment. Like the roman Colosseums, we are forced to do battle to the death. Honor and praise is given to the victors, a quick death to those less f

-undamental in their Roman religious beliefs. Flatulus was a coward and pretended to be dead even though he had only been grazed. Nonreligious maidens bathed his wound and sent

a message on the wind to his sister, Princess Gassiopeia. She breezed by them and floated to the scene. "You call that 'grazed'? Horse-feathers, Flatulus," she laughed. He rose

To his feetcand, "Did I just fart? So sorry, my dear." Too many Mexican jumping beans make the bravest man flatulent, the Princess reminded her red haired leprechaun lover.