Field of Corpses

The name is Gloria Fink. I am, sadly, a partial zombie, and a partial human. Being a zombie only means I am here forever, with so much time to continually rot away. By being on this earth, I grow more depressed, and well, depression is the root of all evil here.

See, it's how the humans turn to zombies, really. It's not a sickness spreading through the air, or nothing like the movies say. It's really just us Americans, and humans, getting what we deserve. I mean, yea, that's a bit harsh, but dying would have been too easy. That way, we would be gone and done, with no way of every being again. But zombies, man, they're here for...ever. Sure, there's ways to kill 'em, but every zombie is different, just like you and I.

That's what's becoming of our country, our world. We're all just lazy, depressed, and usually stupid people. In the end, there's no way of getting around that. We've all done our fair share of stupid things, or even hurtful things to others. So, whether you'll admit it or not, you have been apart of the zombie pollution. Bullying, cutting, and all that negative shit is only bringing us all down.

Oh, yea. Along with the government.

So yea, this story is about my last little bit of "life" on this "slice of paradise" I call the United States of Zombies. It's about how we were struck with it first, and it's about my struggle to just get over it, and well... walk among the dead.

(Also, it has many, many Green Day puns, and if you're anti-Marijuana, then, this story might not be your friend if you judge it for the role of weed in the story.)