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On March 12, 2001 I was blessed (or cursed) to have been granted an exclusive interview with a zombie. I sat down to
interview the zombie in an abandoned warehouse at approximately 1:32 in the morning. The lighting was poor but the
conversation was rich. He wore an old three piece suit and was very pale in complexion. He smelled like rotten flesh covered in cheap cologne.
Q1: For the benefit of our readers who don't know, what is a zombie?
I'm glad you asked. I thought I knew what a zombie was until I became one. Gosh, there are so many misconceptions
of the zombie. There's this thing going around where people believe we are the dead come back to roam the world
eating the living. Why do we need to eat the living? I mean, we're dead! It's not like fresh meat is going to give us any
nutrition. Actually we are the dead who have been re-animated by supernatural powers, you could say magic. We are
controlled by the person who re-animated us. I guess you could say we are slaves. But whatever you may think, we
don't eat people ... we don't eat anything. Think of it like this, what if we didn't eat anything at all? What would happen to us? We'd die?
Q2: Who were you before you died?
You know, I don't remember much about that. I seem to remember being an accountant or something. My master seems to think that's not important. I guess he's right since that person's dead.
Q3: You mentioned your master. What can you tell us about him.
Not much really. He's very private. I do know he called me up to seek revenge. Read about the procedure in an
ancient book of spells. I was suppose to kill his wife's lover but it backfired. He got in the way of a bullet and now he's
in the hospital. I suppose he expected too much of me. I can't think for myself while I'm under his control. Instead of
commanding my every move he'd tell me to "kill him." How? Zombies can't think of things like that. So the guy I'm
suppose to kill starts shooting at me... like THAT'S suppose to stop me! My master ... oh yeah, he's name is Brian, yeah
Brian. Brian starts calling me names and cussing at me. He was hiding but jumped up and stopped a bullet for me ... not
that I needed his help. I'm free to roam the earth until he comes out of his coma. I suppose I'm the property of his wife right now, but I'm not sure how all that legal stuff works.
Q4: You look like you are still decaying. How will you survive the wait?
The funeral home did an excellent job embalming this body. I've been roaming for about eight weeks now and I've held
out pretty well so far. I figure I have at least another couple of months before I fall apart completely.
Q5: What do you do to pass the time while you wait?
Mainly just sit in this warehouse. I can't roam around in the daylight, that only makes this body decay even more. Plus
the living don't know how to deal with zombies yet. Sometimes I put on a coat and hat and roam around late at night and
try to remember what it was like to be alive, but this brain isn't all there. Most of it has already decayed.
Q6: How can you be returned to the grave?
I'm not sure exactly. But I think it has something to do with a ritual written in that magic book. Zombies usually only get
one shot at being re-animated so there aren't many around who can tell the rest of us how to get back to the grave. And this is not something masters tell us.
Q7: What do you want to accomplish before you return to the grave?
I guess I want to kill my master's wife's lover. After all, that's why I'm here, right? But if it was up to me, I'd just go ba .....
It was at this point during the interview the zombie's jaw fell off. And he was unable to continue talking, although he did
try to hold it back in place. I decided this was a good time to end the interview. I smiled and thanked the zombie. He's
eyes looked sad. On the way back to my car I spotted a discarded cigarette lighter and started to think.
I went back to the warehouse and saw the zombie still sitting in his chair. He was looking at his jaw in his hands and
fondling it. He didn't hear me approach. When I came into his view he was slightly startled and I could almost see
surprise in his eyes. I held up the lighter. "Will this help," I asked. He nodded ... slowly. I gave him the lighter and he
walked off to an old storage room. He took out an old coat, an old hat, and some chemicals. He placed the coat and
hat on the floor into a pile and poured the chemicals on them. What he could pour on himself he did. He stood on top of
the pile with jaw in hand and threw me a salute. I waved. He then lit himself and in one amazingly quick flash, he was no more.
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