a zombie appeared out of thin air. He leaped aside and tried running away, but the zombie caught him with a lasso around his torso and pulled him back. He tried holding on to something, anything, but the wooden floor didn't give him hold, but splinters. He shuddered when the zombie grabbed his ankle and lifted him up heels over head. It held a blood smeared leaflet in hand and tried killing him with it. Then he noticed the zombie was actually trying to make him read it. "STOP BLAT..." he read, then suddenly the floor rushed upwards as the zombie let go of him to take another dirty piece of paper and a pen from it's pocket. He tried getting up and running away, but before he had recovered enough to even sit up, the zombie sat on his chest, pinning him onto the floor, and again started waving the leaflet around. He struggled to get up until the zombie made a threatening movement with the pen towards his eyes and he reluctantly stopped moving. "Weeeeeeeed", the zombie growled through it's bad to non-existent teeth. "Weed?", he thought. No, he wasn't on weed. And even if he was, that wasn't enough to explain this nightmare. "...eeeeeead..." the zombie growled again and waved it's leaflet in front of his face. Now he understood. "Read". So he continued reading, although it was hard with the zombie sitting on top as a distraction, some liquid dripping on his throat from the zombie's arm and the zombie's body against his own feeling cold and wet. "STOP BLATANT PRODU..." he read, then a bat launched itself on his face and tried biting him. The zombie grabbed it and started chewing on it, seemingly happy about the incident. "STOP BLATANT PRODUCT PLACEMENTS IN LITERARY WORKS" he read. "Sign the petition!!!". The zombie had finished wolfing down the bat. "Shign?" the zombie asked in a semi questioning, semi threatening way, he couldn't decide which. It almost stabbed him in the eye with the pen and waved around with a the other sheet of paper instead of the leaflet. He now saw it was almost filled with a row of signatures, none of them legible and most written in some brown and green and black liquids which definitely weren't ink. Hastily he grabbed the pen and added his signature. His wasn't anymore legible than the others, but at least the pen seemed to write in ordinary ink - pink ink, but at least ink. "Shank yooooo.", the zombie said. "Eeen retön yull git a fife seconte heatstart befoe I start chashing you and twy to eeet you bains.". It moved off him and he noticed it wore a clean and professional looking stop watch around it's neck. It grabbed it and pressed a button. The watch made a loud beep. "Onne", the zombie said.
