I have been informed that my last post is getting old

Thank you, Ideasculptor, for your commentary on my silence, which has lasted lo these many weeks. You see, the zombie lab has moved from Cuba to California, since I have a new identity, and I have been dealing with logistics, the scope of which my reader cannot even imagine. Moving body parts, and pushing them through customs . . . getting the zombies to seem like humans, for the drive past the Mexican border . . . getting passports for said zombies . . . what country do you even pretend that they're from? My god, it's a full time job for more staff than I have left, given the fact that I fed most of them to my research subjects.

I am now reeling from the effort, and dead drunk. Scotch is the usual beverage of choice, but tonight we attempted the Jack Daniels, and are feeling it, oh yes. Good old American whiskey is not for the faint of heart. The Editor is faint of heart, and wishes to pass out on the most conveniently available horizontal surface. Actually, the horizontality of said surface is negotiable; as long as it is sort of warm, or at least not outside, we'll be all right; the zombies are locked up for the night, and all is quiet on the western front. Good night.