Victoria’s Secret is empty, on account of the Great Sloughing, I suppose. But I still can’t get any service. The girl behind the counter, vacant, practically drooling, shows no interest in my wife’s lingerie needs. Instead, she offers to take me into a dressing room and try on some outfits for me, at which point I realize, duh, she’s a zombie, and I have to take her out. The manager yells at me for not using my silencer, and then says they don’t accept American Express, or anything American.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Duh, She's A Zombie!
Very funny piece about Christmas shopping during a Zombie Apocalypse. Sample: