To the Zombie at Insanity Point,
First off, I think we need to establish right now that the voice you chose — a weird amalgamation between the Wicked Witch of the West and an evildoing clown — was just downright unnerving. It should be fairly well known to anyone who watches “The Walking Dead” or has seen “Shaun of the Dead” that zombies generally don’t talk, and when they do it seems like their voices are a little deeper and more throaty. From, you know, the zombieness.
Second, as means of explanation, I had just emerged from my first ever haunted attraction (short of the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland, which I think most people don’t actually consider haunted) that took place in what appeared to be a disease and insect infested bathroom. That, my dear friend, is far more horrific to a germophobe like me than any sort of apocalypse, zombie or otherwise.
All that being said, I’m sorry for calling you a bastard and saying you were going to hell.
Although I still believe both were and are true, the comments didn’t fall under my mother’s adage of “Is it kind? Is it true? Is it necessary?” because they weren’t kind and they were probably unnecessary.
Speaking of mothers, does yours know you traipse around bales of hay, relentlessly tormenting nice kids? How do you think she’d feel if she knew? Did you actually eat your mother’s face off because you’re a real zombie?
If so, not cool.