Too tired to make Ebola jokes. Just trust me. This does not end well. I’ve seen all the movies. The strain mutates in a way no one predicts. Becomes airborne or contractable via Snapchat. You’ll meet up with a Sheriff from Georgia and his son. Over orders from his parents to stay close, the son will constantly leave the main group only to attract the attention of infected zombie hoards in increasingly preposterous ways and thereby repeatedly imperil himself and the group. He will inherit his dad’s gun and full-brimmed hat and an insufferable personality. You will pray each week for his morbid demise. It will never happen. All your favorite characters from the show, umm, I mean friends, will die. But, Carl, errr, I mean this hypothetically probable future acquaintance, will continue to boss adults around, be allowed to possess a firearm, and generally not die.
Or, maybe an infected nurse will just fly commercial. And, it will be too late.
I beg you, don’t let this happen to us:
Performed by theipoetlaureate. Music produced by DNL. Lyrics here.
Today’s blong here:Too Late