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Native American Satire

Decent Essays

With each impingement, he angrily moaned at his assailants. And, there was even one point in the short film… one moment where you could see him clearly… for just a second or two, an image that burrowed its way into my mind. His harrowed face, the jaundice of his skin, and sunken eyes. He reminded me of my grandfather in the last few days of his life before pancreatic cancer had taken him. How he had become a shell of what he had once been, a blackening peel decomposing before our very eyes. He was grotesque, the thing nightmares are made of, and his up close appearance made me believe that what I had been witnessing was possibly real. Then, at the end of the twenty-five second long video, you could hear a voice call out, “Enough, already, …show more content…

While others, well… not so debunked, but deemed to be anti-government propaganda all the same. After all, when it comes to zombies there can only be one source, right? The corrupt government. And when it comes to the reason the public has been left in the dark about the existence of zombies? Well, that, much like the existence of aliens, would be for our safety. But, as far as any real zombie outbreak was concerned, it never happened. Just a bunch of internet hoaxes produced by pranksters since the birth of the original tale. There was no patient zero, no widespread infection that took over pockets of Massachusetts and the northeastern seaboard, no living dead rose to attack and consume the living. Zombies forever were to remain a figment of Hollywood’s …show more content…

Heard you were back in town for a bit. I’ll see you at Hangover’s tonight, okay? is what I would usually hear within five minutes of showing my face around Cresco. Or, Peter, how’s it hanging, dude? Good to see you back home, kegger at Aaron’s place tonight. Joshua, Wayne, Brian, and all the rest of the retards will be there, kicks off at nine. I guess I could say that free, cheap beer and a bonfire is better than nothing. Other than long sandy beaches, an ocean, ninety degree days, bikinis, and wet T-shirt contests by undergrads, Cresco is just like Panama City, right? I really wasn’t disappointed being home. It was always nice to see my friends again, and it was especially nice seeing Maria when I was back in town. Maria to me was that girl, you know the one. The girl who seems a little into you and you’re a little into her, but not really. The girl who is always good for making out with down at the pub, but you two are not really a couple. A red solo cup filled with rapidly flattening brew, hanging out in a semi-circle with the guys while talking about cars or some other nonsense, and a wayward smile from Maria when a fleeting glance turned to solid eye contact was all I needed to feel home again. Because, within an hour or two of being at Aaron’s party, I’d already felt as if I had never left the

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