Board The Cows! We've Come To Enslave

What Hamlet Suffers From Is A Lack Of Zombies. Let Us Say Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Show Up—ho-ho! Now You’ve Got Something That Stirs The, Um, Something That Stirs Things That Are Stirrable. Boom! A Pack Of Ravenous Flesh-eaters Breaks Open Their Heads And Sucks Out Their Eyeballs. No Need For Iambic Pentameter Because They Are Grunting, Groaning Annihilators Of Humanity With No Time For Meter. You’re Not Asleep In The Back Of English Class Anymore, Are You? This Is What I’m Talking About. Zombies. Learn It, Live It, Love It.

Will Was Making A Speech, Something About Having Been Young And Careless Once, The Sort Of Thing Old-timers Said When They Issued A Deathblow, As If They Thought Their Sanctimonious Ramblings Disguised As Empathy Would Be Welcomed, But Evie Was Only Half Listening.

A Gentle Breeze Catches In The Branches Then And I Hear It, Soft And Low, A Murmured Prayer--gem-ma, Gem-ma--and Then The Leaves Bend Down And Trail Delicate Fingers Across My Cold Cheeks.

But We Can't Go Back. We Can Only Go Forward.

Do You Think They Missed Him Terribly When He Fell? Did God Cry Over His Lost Angel, I Wonder?