Cool has replaced noble, the dude explains, as he knifes
his mother; it’s a man’s world. With that, the teen loudly
orders Quiche Lorraine, peach yogurt, and two diet Cokes.
His boyfriend’s waiting in the car, a Rav4 his parents
got for him on his birthday. He shot his father that morning.
He didn’t like the color.

The zombie wars continue, killings for no rhyme or reason; the
dead wander the streets looking for companions. An army
of empty-headed vagrants, not merely homeless, but soulless.
Men and women who eat shit, looking for an old man to beat.
It’s the sound of cracked skulls they crave, the cry of defeat.
Another senseless killing brings sympathy to the killers.

Zombies do not die. They thrive on brotherly love. Their love
of humanity drives them to kill. They seek to kill all those
who fail to love as they do. They seek to eliminate hate. It’s moral
superiority that justifies the carnage. They are the embodiment
of perfection; remnants of the divine. They are out to rid the world
of sloth and indecency; those who fall short are condemned to death.

Like the rich, the hate the poor. The old attract their attention.
They can smell death. They detect rotting flesh. The young zombies
feed on the feeble, the defeated, and the soon-to-go. Kick them one
last time. They deserve it, the zombies proclaim, because they don’t fight
back. Break their ribs. The identities of the killers are hidden.
Far from being stopped, they are encouraged and protected.

The zombies learn to sneer and snarl. They trample the helpless.
They only attack those who can’t fight back. Then they cry foul.
The young zombies pride themselves on attacking women, especially
petite women from Japan and China, old men, the infirm, the lame,
and retarded. They even kill invalids in hospital beds. They thrill
to the sound of cracking bones and climb in through hospice windows.

Zombies are faceless, brainless, and without blame. Their victims
fall to the ground. Nobody helps them; witnesses laugh and take
pictures. They are known as the clockwork green, yellow, and red.
They wear uniforms of death and tennis shoes. They eat their own.
They live at home to save rent. They tell their mothers they are
going out to play. They lick their bloody hands and suck their fingers.