Sometimes I think about when the dead rise to have their feast on the living. About how the wreck havoc and terrorize the living by constantly assaulting them in ruthless hoards. I think about the pain and trauma that the survivors of these assaults have to deal with, which makes the whole idea of a zombie attack not something I’d like to endure. Then I think about the unlucky zombies who are trapped six feet below the ground in their coffins. While the rest of the zombies are out roaming free and terrorizing people, they are trapped in their dark little hole, unable to dig themselves out because they are so weak. One can’t help but feel sad for those such zombies.

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