[ So, here this
slaughterhouse truck is on the highway, just chilling and stuff.
At 180 km/h.
Run by chaos and mayhem and zombies, who apparently enjoy their takeaway and have been collecting humans,
gasoline cans and quite a bit of (locked) ammo. The camera lands on the
glorious decomposing driver, who hasn't missed a day of regular service, and
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Dzhhhooo... hooo... Frddddrrrick... Mllrrrrn... take... human frrrr wife?
[ Oh look, Freddie is - well, he's uh - Elvis is not convinced ]
Zhhhhat a... yesh?
[ SOMETHING HAPPENS, LIGHTNING STRIKES, etc, Zombie!Elvis is finally in on this. ]
Yesssh he doesh! Do zhhooou.... human...
[ a pause brimming with depth and meaning. it's so philosophical, Elvis' shoulder pops off on the floor. He, er. Got overcome by feelings. He does this for every wedding. ]
The hmmman doesh. Ahhh now pronounshhhh zhou. Man. And. Wife.
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Is this seriously a thing that is happening.]
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For once, he is utterly speechless.]
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Yukio!
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Braaa'nnnn law... behaaave. Witsh. Wife.
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I wish you all the happiness in the world.
[Let us slowly back away.]
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[He's just gonna... follow him okay.]
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Congratulations!
[Shouted you know, between taking shots at the zombies in the low rider behind them.]
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