

It never fails. Whenever Zombo and myself attend a party, three things happen. One, Zombo gets all the damn chicks. I don't know if it's the natural "undead" phermones he emits, his zombie charm, or what...but the guy gets the ladies. Second, he always gets way to drunk and pulls the classic "I have a lampshade on my head, WHOOO-HOO bit". Now if I did that, I'd be an idiot. Not Zombo...he's the frigging "life of the party". Everyone just points and laughs while exclaiming, "that Zombo...what a guy!!" No one ever seems to notice that his jaw is falling off his face and his complexion rivals that of ground up hamburger. Can you tell I'm somewhat jealous here? Anyway, the third thing is that everyone always asks how myself and Zombo came to the partnership that we have here at the Apocalypse. I've finally decided to tell of that fateful night so everyone can now learn about the time Zombo and I joined forces to spread the gospel of the horror film. One last note: The following was part of a previous press release sent out to inform the horror community that after a lengthy period of inactivity from myself, the "Horror Apocalypse" was still alive and kicking, as well as a way to introduce Zombo to the masses.

Not to long ago, utter disaster struck here at Horror Apocalypse World Headquarters. During a screening of Umberto Lenzi's classic "City of the Walking Dead", just as the zombies are about to attack those jazzercise chicks doing their disco number...the damn power went out! My first thought was one of pure and utter panic. Perhaps those high and mighty church groups had finally found the secret location of the Apocalypse, and were prepared to burn both Zombo and myself at the stake? Or mayhap my archenemies from the dreaded "moral majority" had gotten wind of my resurrection from last year and finally tracked me down yet again? But no, I found out that it was something even worse...the damn electric bill was never paid! Now, having been recently laid off from my highly esteemed janitorial position, the finances of The Apocalypse have been under some recent stress and strain. You have no idea what it costs to supply power to this vast empire Zombo and myself call home. After some thinking, I found the answer to the problem. Sure, I could go and get another job, but I'm more needed here at the Apocalypse to watch and review various films for all you freaks. No, the answer I was seeking was sitting right across the room from me. "Zombo" I said, "I think it's time for you to get a job". A look of utter shock and horror crossed over my undead friends face, and I soon realized he was not going to enter the workforce willingly. "Look" I said, "it will only be for a short time, just until I find another high paying janitor job, then you can go back to being unemployed and such". Of course, I had no intention of going back to work, but Zombo was apparently clueless to my little scheme. So, rather reluctantly my undead friend started scanning the help wanted ads, and the results are what you see below.
Zombo's first venture into the workplace takes place at a machine shop. Zombo's a blue-collar kind of guy, and this job fits him perfectly. The man brings his lunchpal, punches in, and gets right to work. He also is working the "graveyard shift"...you expected a zombie to work 9 to 5 maybe? Sure it takes time away from his usual nightime habit of walks in the local graveyard, but I got bills to pay dammit!








