Think you're ready for it?

    Terry was no marksman but he was almost sure he had hit the thing stumbling towards him twice in the head. At least once. Left with only bullet, he waited for it to be at point blank for a spot on headshot. And he fired. Bullseye. Terry was splattered with bits of skull and brainstuff. But the thing kept walking. As his undead mother started clawing his jugular and gnawing his face, Terry, in shock, couldn't stop thinking: "Fuck horror movies!"