Psst...Ben...over here...it's me...your pal Harry...Listen..dying here on the cellar floor has got me thinking about what's important in life and our roles in society.
It's like the universe is trying to tell us something man.
I mean, the dead are coming back to life and You, a black man, shooting me, a bald white man named Harry...irony... and my ghoul of a child eating my flesh.... and then there is my wife...she's been on me all day like some kind dingle berry caught in my ass hair. Oh I'm "Harry" down there let me tell ya... in a very non ironic way...I wanna see Morissette sing about that, don't ya think.
Anywho, what was I babbling on about? oh yeah...I just can't die and come back to life and eat your flesh without telling you something first.
cough cough...I just want you to know...clear throat...I told ya so.
CELLAR FOR THE WIN. You're in my house now bitch.
"Let's stay upstairs...board up the windows and doors...blah blah blah..." How is that working out for ya Ben.