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Mar. 24th, 2010

On the day the dead came back, it wasn't like in the movies. They didn't shamble around in the rotting bodies they were buried in. They weren't ghosts. Well-maybe they sort of were, but it wasn't so bad. They didn't want our brains. What they wanted was our *bread*. We ran away screaming form the supermarket when they showed up, but it was the food inside that they wanted. It was sort of lowering for all us horror-film fans. We'd been expecting a post-apocalyptic standoff with guns and rifles, and it was more like being stuck behind the fat lady in line at the supermarket checkout. At first. It took us a while to realize that they weren't getting any *less* hungry no matter how much food they ate, and they ate a lot of food. All of it that they could find, in fact. Tin cans they ripped open with their fingers. Bread loaves they ate whole, plastic bags and all.

Inspiration: Looking at the holiday schedule.
Story Potential: High, medium-high.
Notes: Although I don't have time to get this written, edited, and submitted for Cinco de Mayo, alas. Not with it taking months for editors to read through their submission stacks. I should have picked a holiday farther in the future, I guess. Independence Day. Ramadan. Halloween.

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penthius

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