Vomiting up your soul is the only reasonable response to seeing the reanimated corpse of your grandmother drag herself through human feces.
It's as if the shark knew that the living were trapped on a boat soaked in excrement and brains, & infested with zombies in Hawaiian shirts.
A cruise ship without power. Zombies. Sharks. Pirates. You have permission to board a luxury trip to the port of HELL.
"Sweet Jesus," thought the Ex-Navy SEAL as he peered between the doors and spied on the pagan zombie orgy. "The undead fuck."
The ex-Navy SEAL wouldn't kiss the relationship blogger. "It'll make it harder for me to kill you if you become a zombie if I love you."
Was it a sea monster? A government experiment? An ancient god? All that mattered was that its tentacles were studded with venomous fangs.
Satan placed his cold hand on the chaplain's shoulder. This boat is truly doomed, thought the chaplain, before vomiting a thousand flies.
Escaping via lifeboat might work, if you could avoid the zombies and the pirates. But then there was the small matter of the tentacles
The putrefying trays of untouched macaroni salad at the buffet and the fat zombie nibbling an ear lobe eased his hunger pangs.
Liberal or conservative? Democrat or Republican? On this cursed cruise, there were only the dead and those damned to join their ranks.
The ex-Navy SEAL knew that if they were to escape the cursed cruise ship, they'd have to turn a lifeboat into a deathboat.
His friends screamed on the other side of the hatch he had locked shut. It turns out, he wasn't the hero type after all.
"How did you get that shotgun past security" "I'm an ex-Navy SEAL stowaway on the run from the law. You won't believe what I sneaked on."
