Since you asked Bassman, here is why I would like to meet George Romero.
I want to meet George. I think em and him would mesh well. I would tell him my ideas for a new zombie story, and he'd tell me what he thought of it. We would talk all day and night, eating breakfast and lunch together. I would go out on family trips with him and his family, handle his tax returns, and take his kids to swimming practice. We'd stay up all night chit chatting, telling each other about our own respective problems, and cry on each others shoulders. We'd wipe our tears and i would gently stroke his beard, while running my tongue over his glasses, trailing a long line of saliva across his coke bottle lenses.
We'd head up stairs, me behind him, rubbing his back, and cooing into his ears. We sit down at the foot of his bed, and I would rub and jostle his formidable belly, kneading out any fat lumps. His face would start to turn red as I twirled my fingers in his chest hair, making tiny little knots of gray hair across his liver spotted chest. I'd slowly push him down, and start massaging his feet, using my finger nails to dig the fungus from underneath his yellow, smelly nails. I'd twirl it around in between my fingers, sniffing it on occasion, and run my tongue across it.
It would taste like popcorn covered in sewage water.
I would use my teeth to slowly nibble away at his nails, all the while massaging his inner thighs. He would find it rather ticklish, and start moving around like a newborn being tickled by its parent. I would then run my tongue over his calloused feet, getting into every nook and cranny available. At this point, I would start to slap his belly with a DVD copy of Day of the dead, making him moan like a zombie from one of his films. I would put on some soothing music; sounds of nature, or maybe some barry white, and begin to use the DVD case to tickle his unwashed, sweaty pits. With my other hand, I would slowly clamp electrodes to his nipples, and begin feeding an electrical charge into his erect man boobs.
He would call me Bub, and I would call him Doctor Frankenstein; His breathing would start to become ragged and shallow at this point. I would comb his beard into the shape of a windmill, and blow on it. Afterwords I would cuddle with him and the collection of his DVDs that he has, and tell the DVDs that it's all right, I am here, and I am never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you.
We would have shepherds pie and pizza for breakfast, and repeat the days activities to the end of times.
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I know...how could I be so stupid?
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Originally Posted by DubiousComforts
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