itp: bacon zombies
[While out for his morning job, Ken found himself being followed. Stalked. Harassed. So instead of going back to the showers as he normally would, he went straight to the mess hall -- strength in numbers, all that. He comes in alone, although the light coming in from the windows is suddenly obscured.]
Uh... guys? I think we might have a problem.
[There is a horde of zombies attempting to get inside; they're moaning more energetically than usual, but instead of brains, their cries are requesting bacon. No, rather they're demanding it. And if they don't get what they want, like any horde...]
((Blame #cfuzazzle. Or. You know. Me.))
Uh... guys? I think we might have a problem.
[There is a horde of zombies attempting to get inside; they're moaning more energetically than usual, but instead of brains, their cries are requesting bacon. No, rather they're demanding it. And if they don't get what they want, like any horde...]
((Blame #cfuzazzle. Or. You know. Me.))