No one knows why, but second only to eating the brains of the living, the dead love affordable prefab furniture.
She was an alien, really - a sort of eating, pooping, tantrum machine - and he didn't understand anything about her species.
Well they're pissed off and they're hungry. I was kind of busy trying not to get my brains eaten. They seemed pretty adamant about the brain-eating thing. Then they're going to IKEA, I guess
If they'd been dogs, they would have all been in the yard eating grass and trying to yak up whatever was making them feel so lousy. Not a bone gnawed, not a ball chased-all tails went unwagged. Oh, life is a fast cat, a short leash, a flea in that place where you just can't scratch.
What this movie needs is more brain eating zombies.
It’s like he has this power over me—like I have an eating disorder and he’s a package of Oreo Double Stuff cookies.
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