Where Hotdogs Really Come From
Oh how I love the humble gas station hotdog. I love it’s phosphates, it’s nitrates, it’s ground up percentage of lip and buttholes.
And don’t try to tell me that the vaguely unsettling shaped meat product doesn’t love me back. Half an hour after eating one it always shows me the love.
I like this comic as it shows zombies don’t always have to eat brains… Simple pork products liberally laced with whatever falls into the grinder will suffice for zombie food. That simply means that my disgusting eating habits won’t really change much when I join the ranks of the undead.
I take no small amount of comfort in that.