When Hell Is Full.

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"When there is no more room in Hell, the dead will walk the Earth".  

So what if you see Zombies eating your neighbour's brains? It's not the end of the world.

 I’m not worried. I have a comfy couch.  
And if a zombie shows up, I’ll be like, “Hey sir, you look tired. You want to sit down?”  
Then I’ll sit next to him and say, “You ever try hummus? It’s like bean paste that went to university.”  

I don’t fear the undead. I fear the living who say “Let’s do brunch.”  
Brunch is breakfast that got peer pressured into wearing a blazer.  
It’s eggs with a superiority complex.  
I ordered toast once and they gave me sourdough.  
I said, “This bread has an attitude.”  
They said, “It’s artisanal.”  
I said, “It’s aggressively chewy.”  

If the dead walk the Earth, they’ll probably end up in a queue.  
Because in England, even the apocalypse respects the line.  
Zombie #1: “Is this the queue for brains?”  
Zombie #2: “No, this is Greggs.”  
Zombie #1: “Cool. I’ll take a steak bake and a doughnut”  

I saw a zombie jogging.  
I said, “You’re dead, man. What are you training for?”  
He said, “The London Marathon. I’m trying to beat my personal best and my personal death.”  

I don’t mind the dead walking the Earth.  
I just hope they don’t start a podcast.  
“Welcome to ‘Brains & Banter,’ Episode 1: Why do humans taste like disappointment?”  

If Hell is full, maybe it’s just bad management.  
They should hire a receptionist.  
“Hi, welcome to Hell. Can I interest you in eternal damnation or a loyalty card?”  
“Buy five sins, get one free.”  

I asked a zombie if he wanted to play chess.  
He said, “I only play games where I can eat the opponent.”  
I said, “Cool, let’s play Monopoly.”  
He ate the banker.  
I said, “That’s fair.”  

The dead walking the Earth isn’t scary.  
What’s scary is when your phone autocorrects “I’ve paid the babysitter” to “I’ve laid the babysitter.”  
Now my therapist thinks I’m a dragon.  
And honestly, I’m leaning into it.  
I breathe fire and hoard emotional baggage.  

So yeah, Hell’s full.  
But Earth’s got coffee, sarcasm, and Netflix.  
And if the zombies want to hang out, they better bring snacks.  
Because I’m not sharing my hummus.  
Not even with the dead.  


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