You're reading Books, Beer and BLOGshit! It's the only blog that that self-proclaims itself Lord Ruler of Chyme n' Stuff. I am your supreme emperor, Mr. Frank!
We like to bring out the big guns to end out a week of summer zombie fun and frolicking. We didn't have anyone who fit that bill so we figured we would showcase The Zombie King himself, Jack Wallen.
We're not entirely clear on the lineage of the current reining Zombie King. There is little to no history on the books about previous Zombie Kings or Queens. We even had trouble finding out when the Zombie Prince was elevated to King.
One thing is certain: The Zombie King rules with an iron fist and all his peasants are oppresed. He maims and kills all who would oppose him. Do not cross him.
We've procured an interview with one of Mr. Wallen's oppressed zombie servants. Read at your own risk. You. Have. Been. Warned.
The BLOGshit: How’d you become a zombie?
Wallen's Zombie: Strange you should ask that. It truly was one of those “I was just walking down the street minding my own business, when this moaner happened to stumble from a bar and wrap its rotting arms around my neck” moments. At first I assumed it was just a drunk looking for a score … until the bastard bit me. Fuck it burned. Right away I knew the ride of life was going to take a turn for the ugly. In the end, the prick got what he had coming. Before I turned, I crushed his head with a fire extinguisher, set him on fire, and pissed out the flames.
The BLOGshit: Would you rather be alive again?
Wallen's Zombie: Honestly? No. The world had already turned to shit before entropy took hold of my life. Politics, Religion … the human race was on a collision course with death. The way I see it, I got out before my generation had to deal with the millennials taking over and giving what was left of common sense an apathetic kick in the nuts.
The BLOGshit: What do the brains taste like anyway?
Wallen's Zombie: Taste? Are you fucking kidding me? I’m a zombie, the last thing on my mind is taste. Okay, that was rude of me. I may be undead, but I do have still have my manners intact. What do brains taste like? Imagine chicken left out in the sun for a couple of days – just long enough to get mushy – and then marinated in a sauce of pennies and salt. Yeah, that’s about right. But hey, dinning on mind-meat makes the noise go away.
The BLOGshit: Does everything stiffen up from the Rigor Mortis?
Wallen's Zombie: Everything but the ONE thing you might want stiff. Yeah...that’s a soggy ass mess down there.
The BLOGshit: If you could eat anyone, who would it be?
Wallen's Zombie: Natalie Dormer. Maybe then would the soggy mess finally stiffen up. Hoo boy, I’d eat the smirk right off her face. Nom!
|The Zombie King: Jack Wallen|