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Come the Zombocalypse


Yeah, you think you’re so on top, strutting around in the pecan tree that shades our verandah and overlooks the garden.  Stealing chook eggs, stealing pawpaws and bananas and pumpkins and taro, scratching up the mulch, even getting into the bread dough proving on the verandah table.  You wait. Come the zombocalypse, you’re dinner.

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