No way I’m letting the zombies get the good stuff—first thing out the door would be those sad flat soda bottles from the back of the pantry. They’ve gotta be at least three flavor mutations past redemption at this point. Toss in the last few inches of stale crackers and that ominous tin of “meat spread” whose label peeled off halfway through the Clinton administration. If zombies have refined palates, they’ll move along real quick.
If they’ve got a sweet tooth, maybe I’ll hand over that brick of ancient fruitcake Aunt Mabel sent for Christmas 2012. Bet that’ll test even undead digestion. On the bright side, if