No one knows why, but second only to eating the brains of the living, the dead love affordable prefab furniture.
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
She was an alien, really - a sort of eating, pooping, tantrum machine - and he didn't understand anything about her species.
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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