This horrifying filler comic brought to you by an evening spent in the company of Max Brooks, the hilarious progeny of Mel Brooks and Anne Bancroft. I'm not linking either of those names, because you goddamn better know who they are already.

Seriously, if you don't, look them up. I'll wait.

In any case, it was an eye-opening evening. I was simply not aware that there is an omnipresent threat of the living dead rising and feasting on the flesh of those of us still running the rat race according to the rules of nature. Furthermore, I would never have guessed that the weapon of choice during the zombie apocalypse would be a measly .22 handgun. In my experience, they only do something like a d8 in damage. But Mr. Brooks is the expert, so I shall bow to whatever he suggests.

I keep looking at the comic for today, and the longer my eyes linger on it, the more deeply unsettling it becomes. Maybe it's just the way Brighton's flesh is rotting from her face, but she looks rather a lot like she's enjoying being one of the undead. Does anyone else see that she's still sporting her trademark cheeky grin? Anyone? Seriously, guys, stop fucking around. Do you see it?

...I think I'm going to go start stockpiling food and ammunition now.