Eat....Brains....

Day 3- Went drinking the night before. Writing is not an option.

Day 4- A plot is somehow forming despite the apparent lack of direction. Although I have written a few thousand words so far I suspect that some of these words are made up and will not count towards the end tally. Seriously, what does "gumpsumtion" mean?

In order to get the zombies to feel right, I must learn to think like a zombie. Apetite of a pothead looking for munchies, the co-ordination of someone with their shoelaces tied together, vocabulary of that vapid airhead Jessica Simpson, groaning like a migrane sufferer, puking blood like a bulimic haemophiliac and be slowly decomposing like a packet of MacDonald's french fries, preserved and dead at the same time. I must, in short, act like someone who has had a ceiling fall on their head- watch Eveyone Loves Raymond, pee my pants and buy tickets to attend Monster Trucks racing or wrestling events.

Day 5- The words are flowing out now although for what piece of writing I don't know. It's not for Slow Rot Boogie I can tell you that much. To the untrained eye it seems like the beginnings of a Western. Shouldn't have bought that Jonah Hex comic last night.

The maestro is decomposing,
Fatman