Whatever Happened to PETA?

"Remember that scene in Dawn of the Dead with the shotgun and the instructional video?" he said, gnawing on a stick of beef jerky she had tossed him.

"Yeah."

"What do you think?"

"Of what?"

He rolled his eyes and took another bite of the jerky. "Of the video."

"Amateurs."

"That's what you said about me at first," he pointed out.

She stared at him for a silent moment, then went back to sorting through the mail.

"Anything for me?"

She shrugged. "Ten for occupant. Are you occupied?"

"Eating beef jerky, sure. Toss 'em."

"Here's one from the ZAR."

"ZAR?" he asked.

"The Zombie Advocacy Rights group. I've run into them before. Jerks."

"What?"

"Seriously," she said, tossing him the pamphlet.

" 'Fighting for the rights of the undead everywhere,' " he read out loud. "It goes on listing how specific dietary needs don't make them evil. This is remarkable."

"I've always thought so."

"Where do these people come from? Am I the only person who didn't know zombies were real?"

"Yes."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Want to donate money to the Charity for Zombie Orphans Fund?"

He took another bite of his jerky. "Do they send charity swag?"

"Sure. Keychains for the undead. Little brains that ooze gray matter when you squeeze them."