Sometimes, you wondered what was it with the zombie clichès about a zombie horde sprouting up from nowhere and suddenly managing to conquer the world without a fight.
Sometimes you queried yourself at night thinking: "Sheesh, what is it with those stupid army men who can't even fight in line, who can't apparently know the value of fighting the zombie hordes holed up in tanks, and who apparently can't even properly nuke a country when it's breeched by a zombie plague?"
Sometimes you kind of shook your head, willing to let it all slide and go on and about your apparently normal life.
Problem is normal just left you.
You remember, of course, the accident.
The vicious attack that took you out was something kind of cheesy, really. Some sort of horrendous B-movie cliché had you walking down a street during the middle of the night and get stabbed to death by a mugger.
So you died. Mind you, you died in the sense that you saw darkness. Complete and utter darkness.
And then, just like in the worst possible movies out of only god knows what type of film, you came back to life.
Well, un-life actually.
So the problem is, you actually chewed your way out of the coffin they dropped you in, you clawed with your hands your way up and, of course...
It's midday.
There isn't much of a soul around, maybe an old granny somewhere in the cemetery, but you wouldn't judge on that. It would have been much easier if this had been a cliché film actually: wake up in the middle of the night, start walking, get honked by hot steamy cheerleaders and bite them while the camera pans out and the music starts getting dreadful in an attempt to scare the spectator stiff.
Pity it doesn't that way.
So to recap, you're apparently a zombie. You're apparently in a cemetery. You apparently have some sort of mild remembrance of how to actually think properly, and you aren't actually hungry.
That might actually change, but at the present you have another thought crossing your mind.
They gave you a nice suit for your funeral! You always knew the only moment you'd put up a suit would be at your marriage or at your funeral, and guess what, the latter won on the first.
You turn around to look at your tombstone.
Name:
Surname:
Date of Birth:
Date of Death: 13/01/2013
In loving memory.
Photo:Suggestion game. Hint is, you're a zombie and the world isn't stupid. Good luck.
Name/surname/photo: describe 'you'. Only one gets chosen. The most serious and less 'cliché' wins.
Suggestions for actions are taken on a 'serious'>'mass' but multiple suggestions that can 'co-habit' are done together.