All language subtitles for iZombie - 04x01 - Are You Ready For Some Zombies WEBRip

_

The Seahawks, my man.

That's who. Legion of Boom.

Twelfth man.

[imitates roaring fans]

Russell Wilson, back there scrambling,

pulling rabbits out of hats.

Hey, wanna come over
and watch the combine?

You know, uh, let me see
what I'm doing that night.

You know what, it kills me.

Man, it kills me that we're playing
our home games in Tacoma.

Stupid zombies. Stupid wall.

- Hey, Clint.
- Why'd they have to choose Seattle?

They should've taken their
filthy virus to New England

and scratched some of them
chowder-slurpin' sons o'bitches, huh.

[Roche] Hicks!

Awfully chatty over here, boys.

You meeting your quotas?

Always.

That's what I like to hear! Carry on!

[muttering] Stupid zombies. Stupid wall.

[man over PA] This is a quarantine zone.

Violators will be shot.

For your safety, vacate
this zone at once.

[Blaine] Gotta hand it to
the Red, White and Blue.

One day, they decide
to wall off the city.

Seventy-two hours later,
we're living in Baghdad.

- No one goes over tonight, Dugan!
- Yes, sir!

So, let's see, what've I
got for you this time?

Two of your officers enjoy
playing high-stakes poker.

Croslin and Carney are their names.

They're in deep to a bookie
they call The Barber.

Sinclair! Look alive!

What else?

Word is watered-down brain
tubes are being sold for

forty bucks a pop in
the back alleys of Seattle.

You've got a leak in your food chain.

Someone's getting rich.

Commander. It's here.

Excellent.

What else?

All right, here's a riddle for you.

I own a cemetery. One of
my backhoe's goes down,

and I'm finding it very difficult
to rent digging equipment.

Why do you think that is?

Where might one want to dig to?

All right. You can stay
open another week.

Look, it's not that I don't
enjoy going on our strolls.

You've really started opening up to me.

But having to bring you these
little nuggets of information

like I'm your stool pigeon
isn't exactly my style.

I could just close down your businesses.

[Chase] All right, well, this will
have to remain our arrangement.

Hey, man, do you even
use the information that I...

What the cuss?

Is that a guillotine?

Of sorts. It's a guillotine for zombies.

But why? We're zombies.

Zero tolerance. That's our message.

Message received.

[theme music playing]

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Synced and corrected by hawken45
for www.addic7ed.com

_

I work in a brain processing plant,

and this was the gnarliest
thing I've ever seen.

Clint always volunteered...

That's Clint Hicks, the victim?

Yeah. Clint Hicks. He volunteered
to pick up some extra hours

cleaning the equipment
after hours each night.

Nasty work. I don't know how he did it.

Sorry, no offense.

None taken. I think.

I mean, you'd probably enjoy
licking the brain bowls clean,

but Fillmore-Graves doesn't
let zombies work the line.

Too much temptation.

Makes sense.

[DB] Anyways, Kelly,
that's Clint's wife,

she called security last night
at 2:00 in the morning,

says he hasn't come home.

Security comes down here

and finds him in the grinder.

I believe I've arrived
at a cause of death.

"Ground up in a giant mixing bowl."

No. Wait a minute.
Let me recheck my work.

Yep. "Ground to death in a mixing bowl."

Mr. Perales,

how long have you been working
across from Mr. Hicks?

Ever since the plant opened,

right after the world got
turned upside down.

So what's that? Three months?

Nearly four. You know anyone who
might've wanted to kill him?

Well, he wasn't real keen on zombies.

Any particular reason?

Thing you gotta know is that

he's the biggest Seahawks
fan you've ever met.

I've met a lot of crazy Seahawk fans.

Didn't mean they hated zombies.

Yeah, but before everyone got
turned into zombies,

Clint had his dream job
at CenturyLink Field.

Then, boom! We're zombie town.

After that, instead of a job he loved,

he's packaging human brains by day

and cleaning them out of
the grinders by night.

He was always complaining about zombies.

Sometimes a little too loud.

I mean, the Fillmore-Graves guys
here aren't the warmest dudes.

Oh, God. I'm sorry.

I didn't mean it like
"warmest", I just meant like...

No. Of course. I'm fine.

This new world is gonna take
some getting used to.

Why bother. Someone's probably
going to nuke us any day now.

["Monday Night Football"
theme music playing]

[sighs contentedly]

[Major] Sir.

Sir!

I know you're aware of the curfew.

No one out on the
streets after midnight.

Come on, man. Check this out.
I met this girl at the club...

- [man 1] Come on, baby!
- You suck!

Die, zombies!

- [explosion]
- [Major] No.

Let me go, you undead freak.

I baked your buddies good,
didn't I? Didn't I?

_

Major. Come.

Sit.

Yes, sir.

[telephone rings]

I hear last night was eventful.

Gully and Chu were hit
by a Molotov cocktail,

but they'll be okay
in a couple of weeks.

And I hear you caught one of
our human terrorist friends.

What do they call themselves?
"Human Shield?" "Up With People?"

"Dead Enders."

We're not sure he's a member.
I mean, the kid is only 15.

Well, that kind of segues right into
what I wanted to talk to you about.

We noticed you have a
background in youth counseling.

Yeah.

There's a problem in the city.
You must've noticed.

Young zombies.

They're homeless because their
parents kicked them out.

They're starting to roam around
in packs. Packs become gangs.

We need productive, contributing zombies

fully integrated into
the fabric of the city.

You think you can give me that?

I can give it a shot.

Excellent.

[Blaine] Chase Graves, man.

What's he got that I don't got, Dad?

Oh, that's right. An army.

What's that old proverb?

"Mo' money, mo' problems."

I want to expand, Pop, but he's
got me by the short and curlies.

He could shut me down any day.

And this whole business of
me having to seek him out

every week to feed him
dirt from the street

like I'm some two-bit
street hustler is humiliating.

It's a shame you raised me
to like nice things.

Love you. Mean it. Ciao.

Dino! Chop, chop. Let's go.

This is the one.

Check it out!

Russell Wilson.
I would have your babies.

[knocking at the door]

Try to dial it down a bit, Liv.

Let's not remind them that zombie
cops eat their loved ones.

Zombies are the worst.

Pale-assed brain-eating bitches.

Looks like they just put this poster
here to cover up some gang taggings.

Yes?

Mrs. Hicks?

Yes.

We're with Seattle PD. Homicide.

We'd like to come in and ask you
a few questions. Do you mind?

So you clocked out at the plant
at 6:00 p.m. Is that right?

Thereabouts, yeah.
It'd be on my timecard.

What time did your husband usually
get home from his cleaning duties?

About 9:00. Could you set that down?

A Seahawks salt shaker?
It's pretty damn awesome.

Liv.

Sorry, Mom. I guess I missed that one.

Detective Babineaux and...

Assistant Medical Examiner Moore.

Are just asking some questions.

This is my son, Zorn.

Like Jim Zorn? The
Hawks QB from 76 to 84?

That's the guy.

I take it you're not on the
Seahawks bandwagon.

Not since February 1, 2015.

What happened?

Super Bowl XLIX.

Patriots 28, Seahawks 24.

That game ruined my dad.

After that day, he completely
became single-minded.

If it wasn't about the Seahawks,
he wasn't interested.

Zorn, where were you when
your father was murdered?

I was right here with Mom.

So the two of you were
here together all night?

That's right.

We understand that
Clint might not have had

the most enlightened
views about zombies.

Who needs enlightenment? Am I right?

I guess what we're asking is
whether your husband

might've had any run-ins with zombies.

None that he told me about,

but he was in a bit of a war
with this one guy from work.

A war?

Well, it started as smack
talk, but it got out of hand.

The last thing I heard was
this guy keyed Clint's car.

Wrote something that
riled up my husband.

You remember what it said?

"Richard Sherman is
an average cornerback."

What?

Liv...

That's kind of a lengthy thought
to express in that, uh,

particular medium.

Yeah, well...
They really hated each other.

Doc Greeley's his name.

He's from San Francisco.

San Francisco?

San Fran, baby. City by the bay.

How're we superior?

Well... The first thing
that springs to mind is

at least we don't have 10,000
zombies walled in with us.

I'm about to give you
49 reasons you're an idiot.

Oh, yeah? Golden Gate or Space Needle?

That's what I thought. Boom.

Monorail or no monorail. Suck it.

Clint's widow says that
you keyed something about

Richard Sherman on the
hood of Clint's car.

[Liv scoffs]

Sherman would light you up, son.

It's because he spray painted "Go Hawks"

on the top of my car.

[chuckles]

I'm a Niners fan.

I have a sticker on my car, sure,

but like most of America, it's because

I hate the Seahawks.

I hate how cocky they are.

It ain't cocky if you can back it up.

It's true. They're awful.

Where were you the night of the murder?

At home.

Alone?

Yep.

All night?

Yes.

Show him, Clive.

What am I looking at here?

That's the parking lot where you work.

And this is the security footage
taken of the parking lot

the night of Clint's murder.

You didn't know there was
a camera there, did you?

Note the time code
at the bottom of the screen.

It's right in the two-hour window

our medical examiners have
given us for time of death.

Hmm.

[Clive] Pretty obvious
that's your white 2015 Sonata.

You failed to mention that
you drove back to work

on the night of the murder.

That seems like a big omission.

Look, I'm being set up here.

Typical Niners fan.

It's never your fault. It's the refs.
It's the injuries.

I got home that night,

and I found 20 brain tubes in my bag.

I how they got there,

but you don't want to know

the punishment for stealing brains.

I went back to work to put them back.

Why'd you lie to us?

He's a Niners fan, Clive.

They do dumb things. They re-signed
Blaine Gabbert for God sakes.

Oh, I'm sorry. You want to talk dumb?

Dumb like running off Jim Harbaugh?

At least we would've known
you run Marshawn Lynch

against a gassed New England defensive
line when you have three downs

to win the mother-freaking Super Bowl.

Liv... Remain calm.

You're going full-on zombie.

It's called beast mode.

We meet at the same time every day.

Where are Clive and Liv?

Ah. Good. Everything okay?

We like this guy we brought in
for the brain factory killing.

A 49ers fan.

We're gonna hold him for a full 48
until we can get a search warrant,

and see if we can seal this up tight.

Sounds good.

Halpern and Schumacker,
how's it going on

the John Doe they found
on the East Wall?

All I know so far is our
John Doe watched a lot of porn.

[chuckles]

So, you and me, we're
getting the smarty-pants?

Physics professor at U-Dub.
Everything points to the wife.

Not sure if I even need
to eat the brain.

Might be nice riding around
with my intellectual equal.

Mmm. Well, who would
laugh at all your fart jokes?

The victim is Ben Rooney. Age 58.

Professor of Physics from
the University of Washington.

The injury has resulted

from a single blow to the
occipital region of the head.

Brain weight,

1350 grams.

The brain appears healthy, damage
from the blunt force trauma aside.

It's, uh...

Pink.

Firm.

A smell of...

[sighs]

Lilacs.

Taste of...

Melon.

Honeydew, I would think.

_

Subject's hair has begun to turn white.

This is the third time subject
has turned into a zombie

since taking the proto-vaccine.

If trends continue,

zombie state should last
no more than 72 hours.

On the bright side,

the vaccine works.

Subject has been scratched by his
zombie assistant several times now,

and he remains human.

With the small caveat
that every few weeks,

subject craves brains.

I see it's your time of the month.

It's obvious?

You're wearing that
stocking cap indoors.

Plus zombies have this stench to them.

I've never noticed.

It's true. They smell.
They're disgusting.

On that note,
I'm going to call it a day.

This professor whose brain I ate
patented all these inventions.

Maybe inspiration will strike,
and I'll make a fortune.

[Roche] ...more cash in my
pocket than I can spend.

If they didn't want it
sold on the black market,

they would not have made it so scarce.

Hey. You hiding. Show yourself.

[gasps]

You're not gonna eat that?

I'm saving the rest.

Give me a bit dude. I'm starving
and you weight like 40 pounds.

I'm saving it.

Give it to me.

Or when we get out of here,

I'm going to rip on of your
arms and beat you with it.

He said he's saving it.

And who are you?

Captain Seattle?

[all chuckling softly]

You two.

Sit.

I wanna thank all of you

for agreeing to come here to
Fillmore-Graves headquarters.

- Yeah. We're all volunteers.
- [snickering]

You are here for a reason.

You've been living on the streets.

Most of you were thrown out of
your homes for being zombies.

Thanks for that. By the way, the
"turning us into zombie" part.

Look, what's done is done.

It's time to make the best of it.

Our goal here is to
get you off the streets.

Prevent the formation of
zombie street-gangs.

The key to our survival is integration.

Tell that to the dead-enders.

Is it true that
Fillmore-Graves soldiers get

all the brain tubes they want?

We get double rations.

Did everyone see that brain
vending machine in the hallway?

The what?

Not really.

Is there?

There is.

So, I'm out there every day trading sex

for the brains tubes to feed
my little brother and sister.

And you get to eat them
like they are candy bars?

You're really...

No. I work at coffee stands.

But I do know plenty of girls
who are putting up for tubes.

And some dudes.

My brother and sister
really are starving.

And the brain tubes they distribute

barely have any brains in them anymore.

Check out this guy.

Who's that?

A Fillmore Graves soldier.
Jimmy sketched him for me.

I saw this guy in a vision.
He was hatching a plan

to make a fortune on the black market.

Then he caught our victim listening in.

Did he look mad?

He didn't look happy.

I figured we could go ask
Major if he can ID the guy

unless you have plans.

My night's wide open.

You sure Major's gonna be willing

to rat on one of his
Fillmore-Graves buddies?

If he's stealing brains from
hungry zombies. Yeah.

If you say so. You know him better.

What're you saying he's guilty of?

Uh, murder.

Possibly.

Plus, I saw him talking to
another Fillmore-Graves soldier

about selling brains tubes
on the black market.

So we know he's doing that.

Major.

His name is Russ Roche.

And the black market thing makes sense.

I hear he's going to The Scratching Post

every night and throwing money
around like there's no tomorrow.

Liv! Clive!

To what do we owe the pleasure?

Ravi, you're... Um...

Naked.

As a newborn.

I can't... Mmm-mmm.
[stammers] I can't...

I should've given you guys a warning.

Apparently this physicist
whose brain he's on?

Must've been a big time nudist as well.

Naturist. I'm in harmony with nature,

and I'm never going back.

Would anyone else like tea?

_

I don't know. Maybe...

[laughing]

What's there to think about, buddy?

Look at these lovely ladies

eager to show you
and your buddies a good time.

Eager, huh?

Then why's she not smiling?

It's her thing.

Tough girl. Sassy. Some guys like it.

I don't. Get rid of her.
I'll take the other two.

You. Go mingle.

Hey, bring us some booze, huh?
The good stuff!

Can do.

No. No. No. You got the wrong place.

The pancake house where the cops eat
free, it's just down the street.

That guy at the booth how much
money is he gonna drop tonight?

Let me see.

Whole blue brain from some big
deal Shakespearean actor.

Five bottles of the good stuff.

Four companions.

None of your business.

Hey, Don E., what's that on your shirt?

Oh, what are you on? Third-grader brain?

Tanner.

Another bottle of the Devil's
Puckered Knot, Small Batch.

Come on.

Excuse me...

Who're you?

Clive Babineaux. Seattle PD. Homicide.

Not interested. You.

You can stay, honey.
I just need you to go tan and...

Vision.

A blue brain vision. It's a long one.

[gasps]

Is this jackanapes still about?

Get thee gone, sir,
afore I box thine ears.

All right, Shakespeare.

Handmaiden to Venus, vouchsafe
me your cheveril ornament.

Huh?

Your glove, harlot. Make haste!

Jeez.

You trespass, sir,
and know not what you do.

So I shall teach thee, knave,

and teach thee true.

I wouldn't.

[Blaine] Time out!

Time out!

Detective Babineaux.
You're not in Seattle anymore!

This is New Seattle and in New Seattle,
cops they don't come into my bar...

Our bar.

Right. To hassle the fine,

fine Fillmore-Graves soldiers who
protect this city's undead population.

I had a vision from the guy who
was murdered at the brain plant.

He saw you talking about selling
brains on the black market.

That's why you killed him, isn't it?

The worker overheard a joke.

But a jape!

Innkeep, tell me plain, must I
endure the ravings of a starveling?

A neat's tongue? A bull's pizzle?

Away, ivory cur.

Thou art a boil.
Tarry not, lest ye be lanced.

You heard the man.

All bull pizzles hit the road.

Dino. Show them the exit.

Then come clean up this mess, uh?

Do I look like a waitress?

You are whatever I tell you you are!

Sure thing, boss.

[grunting]

Get it all out.

I would've gotten you out sooner, but

Blaine didn't start having me drive
him out here until recently.

I had to pick the right time.

Wrap your arms around me.

Two-bit hustler!

That's Blaine.

And a voice called down upon Angus

and, lo,

two-bit hustlers were had
by their short and curlies.

Mo' money...

Mo' problems!

I'm glad you brought up
money, boss, 'cause...

I figure my getting you out of here
is worth some kind of reward...

And the voice of the
herald cried, "Shame."

It's a shame...

Think about it.

You work on those cement shoes.

I've gotta call my girlfriend.

[cracking]

Sorry, baby. This is taking
longer than I thought.

We haven't discussed
a dollar amount yet,

but he'll see the light.

I'm thinking six figures...

["U Can't Touch This" playing]

Filthy, filthy lucre.

_

[talking inaudibly]

Mr. Mayor! Such an honor. As always.

Mr. DeBeers. I'd eat every meal
here if I could afford it.

You can't go wrong with
anything on the menu.

What would you recommend?

The Ode to Zuni roast brain
with fennel panzanella.

Ooh.

And here are the brains
that you can choose from.

Everything is cemetery to table.
And if I may be so bold,

our freshest brain comes from
an architect of some renown.

Sold!

I'll have the same.

Ms. Charles? What can we get for you?

I'll have the T-bone. Rare.
And another bourbon rocks.

Fine choice.

The flounder for me.

I would've guessed the flounder.

So, what were we talking about?

The exodus.

Right!

How many humans got out?
Before the wall went up?

A couple hundred thousand. It's lucky
for us they did wall the city.

If all you innocent humans left,

they'd drop an atom bomb
right on Pioneer Square.

You're welcome.

But now Chase Graves decrees a death
penalty for scratching someone? Come on.

Well, there aren't enough brains to
feed the zombies who are here already.

We shouldn't make more.

"Clip your nails, no epic fails."

I don't think he'll actually
use the guillotine.

It's there to scare the zombies

and to give humans the sense that

zombies are serious
about policing themselves.

I hope you're right.

God, you are gorgeous.

[chuckles softly]

Well, that sate kills the mood.

I don't think it was there this morning.

It's scary. It's like a cross burning...

[Liv] Shh. This slot receiver from USC

is about to show off his vertical.

If he hits 35, I say we use
our second round pick on him.

Mind if I grab a beer?

No, there's an IPA downing
the crisper, behind the...

Shh!

Oh, my God.

[Derek] Oh, my God.

Oh, hey. Liv invited me over
for the combine.

You're naked.

Right. I forget sometimes.

Ravi, would you mind
putting on some clothes?

Doctor Ravi Chakrabarti. I don't
believe we've had the pleasure.

Right. Sorry. Ravi, this is Derek.

Derek, this is Ravi.

Ravi's a nudist.

Derek Edelsburg.

Right. The lawyer!

I've heard nothing but great things.

- [timer dings]
- Queso!

No!

Liv, no, he is not sitting on our couch.

We can throw down a towel, or we can...

You put this stud at weak-side defensive
end, he will eat quarterbacks.

Liv, sweetie.

I need to show you
something out in the hall.

Oh, look. They're going to commercial.
Just give me two minutes.

Come on.

How do you know Peyton?

Look.

[Liv] "Z."

For zebra.

The referees read what I wrote
on the NFL fan board,

and this is their revenge.

Liv. It's for "zombie."
As in "a zombie lives here".

People are marking the houses
of suspected zombies this way.

I need to find Clive.

Wait, what do I do about Ravi?

I say get back together with him.

So if I'm not mistaken...

A "Z." A zombie lives here.

But it wasn't the dad.

I ate his brain and he was
decidedly anti-zombie,

although who can blame him.

[knocking at the door]

The mom didn't seem
very keen on zombies, either.

Could be an act.

Officers.

Mrs. Hicks.

By the powers granted in
Fillmore-Graves decree number 176,

we'll be taking your blood pressure.

Your arm, please.

Liv, cuff her.

[Zorn] Mom?

Come here, son.

Human.

Give me your arm.

[Clint] He's a zombie! The
stupid son of a bitch did it!

He couldn't keep it in his pants
with his little zombie girlfriend!

I raised you better! Get out! Get out!

[Kelly] Clint!

Touch me again, and I'll eat
your brain. I swear I will.

Zorn, here, is a zombie.

A law-abiding, in-the-closet zombie.
What's wrong with that?

[whispers]

You should know that
my partner here has, um,

sampled your father's brain.

She's able to experience moments
from the deceased's life.

I just saw an incident where he
pushed Zorn down this flight of steps

and Zorn threatened to eat his brain.

I'm afraid we need to take
you down to the station.

Turn around, please.

Zorn Hicks, you have
the right to remain silent.

He didn't do it!

Mom, don't! I read that these visions
aren't admissible.

They don't have...

The brain tubes in Doc Greeley's bag.
You put them there, didn't you?

You knew he would come back up to
the brain plant to put them back.

You set him up. You wanted to
pin this on the 49ers fan.

Clive, I still think he may
have played a part in this.

Mom, I'm a minor...

Confess and we may forget
that you made your son

an accomplice by having him
provide a false alibi.

I did it.

Clint made me choose.

My husband or my son... He never
should have made me choose...

Kelly Hicks,

you have the right to remain silent.

Zombie scum!

You said it, man! Go Hawks!

Go Hawks!

_

[all laughing]

The first time I raged out,
it freaked me out so bad.

It was like my first, um...

Nocturnal omission. I was
like, "What just happened?"

[Thor] My first time,

my dad was wailing away on me as usual.

And then, suddenly,

I'm like, "Argh!"

Scared the hell out of him.

I chased the son of
a bitch round the block.

[all laughing]

So at my school, there is this

stuck up bitch named Gretchen Nelson,

who kind of knew I was a zombie
but I hadn't come out yet.

- And so...
- Captain Seattle.

How many brain tubes is that for you?

Two.

Dude. Lie.

Where did you get two?

You're only supposed to get
one for showin' up.

Looks like everyone got extra tubes.

The lady handing him out
said she had extra.

And she made us promise
not to tell, so...

Don't be a dick and get her in trouble.

So, this is what you well-fed

Fillmore-Graves soldiers
feel like all the time.

Happy. Ready to kick-ass.

We were talking about
our first times raging out.

Jordan, keep going.

Lillywhite...

You know why the machines
are out of tubes?

- Uh-uh.
- [scoffs]

Sucks, man.

Jordan.

[Jordan] Yeah.

So, Gretchen

is saying stuff like,
"Looking a little pale, Jordan."

Do you wanna borrow some of
my make-up, Jordan?

Oh, is that a streak in your hair?

"It's so punk rock."

And, I'll be honest.

I was kind of dreaming of
cracking her head open.

But I wasn't sure there'd
be a brain inside.

My family is starving. No lie.

[Chase] Lillywhite.

Don't touch that. We'll talk.

How is it comin' along?

It's a bit of a mixed bag.

Any stand outs?

Stand outs in what way?

In that, "I'd want this zombie
in a foxhole with me" way.

Ah, so, that's what this is about.

In case you missed it, Major, we're
hanging on by a very thin thread.

We don't have enough trained
soldiers to control this city.

These kids aren't trained.

Then they'll have to learn on the job.

So, who's in the foxhole with you?

Captain Seattle. Jordan.

Over here.

Are you sure?

Not really.

Sir.

Jordan Gladwell. Fisher Webb.

This is Chase Graves.

Big kahuna.

Sir.

I just asked Lillywhite here who
he thought had the right stuff

to be a soldier at Fillmore-Graves.

For whatever reason, he sees
something in the two of you.

So, until you washout,
get killed or usurp me,

you'll be working for us.

You'll be charged with keeping the
peace in this experimental city.

Can I count on you?

Yes, sir.

Yes, sir.

You'll be in Major's squad.

Teach you everything you need
to know to survive out there.

Don't screw up.

_

[preacher] Damned though you may be,

there is still a path to salvation.

There is nothing

that keeps the undead
out of the pits of hell

save for the mere pleasure of God.

[clears throat]

Never forget

that God may cast a wicked zombie
into the pits of hell at any moment.

Don't you mean "pits of well?"

Because hell is a well,

and well,

well,

we're one

wicked,

wanton wonton stuffed
with balls of brains

brined and braised harm the Almighty?

Welcome, son. Welcome to the loving
embrace of God. Please, have a seat.

Be ye man or be ye zombie?

I'm a vessel for the Lord.

A human vessel or a zombie vessel?

Human, of course.
Zombies can't be ordained.

Well ain't that some
squill, so sayeth me.

'Cause I speak to God.

Of course. Prayer is important...

And God speaks to me. I look
in the light and I hear his words.

He says, "Angus, I need an army."

Give me an army,

"and verily we'll have them
by the short and curlies."

Sir, what can we do for you?

I'm hungry!

Aren't you hungry? Are you hungry?

Are you hungry?

Come closer, son.
We'll pray for a miracle.

Dear Lord...

[preacher] Ahhh!

No! No, no, no!

[all gasping]

Behold! A miracle!

God loves you!

He means it!

Chow!

Chow!