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Mark Trail, 4/23/05

Be careful, insurance investigator guy whose name I can’t be bothered to look up! You may think you’re having a productive, professional chat with a respected member of the local law enforcement team, but you’re actually standing mere feet away from a bloodthirsty zombie who’s lulling you into a false sense of complacency so he can crack open your skull and eat your brains!

Admittedly, it can hard to tell the difference between a small-town sheriff and the walking undead. Here’s a few “warning signs” that may indicate a corpse reanimated through foul magic:

• Chalk-white skin
• Eyes with orange pupils
• Protruding cheekbones giving the face the appearance of a skull
• Deep shadows cast over one side of the face, seemingly at odds with the actual lighting in the room
• A thousand-mile stare that seems to wistfully harken back to a pre-death-and-unspeakably-evil-reanimation existence

If you think you might be talking to a zombie, run for higher ground! It’s a well-known fact that a zombie’s main mode of locomotion is an awkward shuffle, so they have some difficulty with inclines. In case of mass zombie takeover of your town, be sure to tune in to NOAA radio. If the usual weather report has been replaced by a guttural voice moaning “BRAINS … BRAINS!” over and over, you’re pretty much screwed.

Incidentally, it almost seems like Sherriff Zombie’s directions — “you can find him at Lost Forest” — are some kind of snide joke, but it’s commonly known that zombies have no sense of humor.

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Luann, 4/22/05

Like, oh my God, Luann’s going to do the high school drama storyline that never ever fails to entertain: one person, one dance, two dates! I’m sure we have several weeks of stressful wackiness in store as Gunther tries to figure out how to say no to either Luann or Bernice (who asked him yesterday, for those not following along), possibly living in fear and panic until the night of the dance itself, when the monstrousness of his deception becomes apparent and both young women, their faith in their fellow humans tragically abused, discover Gunther’s two-timing and stalk off, enraged, with none of the three ever talking to any of the others ever again. Oh, the hilarity!

For the record, as a high school student my social situation bore a passing resemblance to Gunther’s, and for me the scenario played itself out a little differently. First, I wouldn’t ask anyone out because I was too terrified. Then, nobody would ask me out because they didn’t like me or (more likely) didn’t know I existed. Finally, the night of the dance, I would stay home and read Isaac Asimov novels or watch Perfect Strangers on TV. The end.

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Check out the top of the left-hand navbar for a new fun feature here: The Comics Curmudgeon comment of the week! Every Friday (or so), I’ll pick the comment that I’ve arbitrarily found to be the most amusing and feature it in that spot for a glorious seven days. There’s no point to this but to give a little something back to you, the reader. Or at least those of you readers who are funny.