End of Days Advice from an Ex-zombie

To think I used to be so good at going to pieces gobbling my way through the cops and spooking what’s left of the girls. How’d I get so far, sloughing off one knuckle at a time, jerking my mossy pelt along ruined streets? Those insistent, dreadful thuds when we stacked our futile selves against locked doors. Our mumbles and groans! Such hungry nights! Staggering through the grit of looted malls, plastered with tattered flags of useless currency, I’d slobbered all over the busted glass and merchandise of America ... But first you’ll have to figure out those qualities separating what’s being alive from who’s already dead. Most of you will flunk that. Next learn how to want one thing over and over, night after night. Most of you are good at that. Don’t get tired. Don’t cough into your leftovers. Don’t think. Always stand by your hobgoblin buddies. Clutch at whatever’s there. Learn to sniff out sundowns.