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------------------------------------ There was a large painting of Evel Knievel shaking hands with Richard Nixon. It hung in the Mayors office. Late one evening after everyone went home. I took it down to the lab. I zoomed in on Evel’s left eye a 100x and enhanced it. It was an address. I went to the address. It was a modest, 1970’s style, split level ranch home in the suburbs.
----------------------------------- Inside I found a dead parrot lying on a waterbed. I revived the parrot with some saltines and adrenaline. We became good friends. The parrots name was Randy. One night a few years later while Randy and me played Gin Rummy, he sang me a song about a fire. The title of this blog was never mentioned but I sensed it, and Randy confirmed it by giving me ‘THE LOOK’.
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Seriously. I’m about one ill-advised gunshot away from tearing the blonde girl’s hair out.
paha sometimes i am too.
Except for Darryl. Zombie apocalypse man crush just based on the fact that he’s not retarded.
I hate to admit I’m starting to feel this way too.
I want them all to die.
I gave up on the show. Wasn’t worth it anymore. I hate all the characters, the dramatic tension doesn’t work because…you...
… secretly… AMC, turn this into a zombie love story. A different spin from the graphic novel!
The zombies can also act and...either. …But I still like the show :3
Me too. They don’t whine as much as everyone else on that show.
