"Woah, Woah, Woah!" Sweeney backed away even faster. Not only had the chick who had been dead only a moment prior suddenly move, she was awake. Was she a zombie? But, that and she was talking and pointing a gun at him. Drunk and with his eyes slightly glassed over, Sweeney held his hands up defensively. "Was just passing by and tripped over you. No harm meant."
She had been so totally dead. Cold to the touch and no pulse. Either she was a vampire or a zombie. But didn't vampires sleep in caskets during daylight house rather than in the middle of the sidewalk in relative dark? So, zombie then.
What was it that Sweeney heard about zombies? Something about eating... brains. They ate your brains and then you turned into a zombie and the only way to kill one was to cut its head off or drive a stake through its heart or - no the latter was vampires. All of this Sweeney had learned in a bar, listening to some young bucks chat while watching Dawn of the Dead playing on the bar televisions. It had been Halloween, if he recalled correctly.
"Please don't eat my brains, Miss Zombie Lass." Sweeney really liked his brains where they were... inside his head and he was rather attached to his head as well. But that gun was still pointed at him. Maybe she was going to shoot him. Blow his head clean off and then eat his brains. Except that he liked his head in tact also. "Honest mistake, lass. Please don't kill me or eat my brains. Leprechauns don't taste good. I swear to fucken Bran above..."