A Zombie Walks Into A Bar...

Hey there, pal, how's it going?
   Unnhh...
Yeah, tell me about it. You're looking a little rough around the edges.    Unnhh...
Well sit down, take a load off. What can I get you?
   Br...
Beer? Bottle or tap?
   N-no... need bra...
Brass monkey? Haven't had anyone ask for that in a loooong time. Don't know if I have the stuff. Gimme a second, I'll check.
   Brains! Need brains!
Well, we all have those kind of days. I'm Harvey, by the way.
   Unnhh... I hunger...
We got peanuts and pretzels. If you're really famished I can order from the pizza place next door.
   P-pizza... with brains?
You're really fixated on that, huh? Something go down at the office?
   W-walking dead... invade...
Jeez? Again? Don't tell me you're... of course you are. Should have seen it when you shambled in. I thought the red stuff around your mouth was strawberry jam.
   Unnhh... how about a b-b-bourbon?
Sorry, I'm cutting you off. We don't serve unholy armies of undead.
   B-but... just me...
Yeah, now. But if I serve you then before too long you'll bite one of my other customers, and he'll bite someone else, suddenly everyone in here's a zombie. And you know what? Zombies don't tip for shit.
   P-profiling... illegal... call the cops...
I've danced this dance before. You know what this is?
   Sh-shotgun...
And you know what happens to zombies when there's a shotgun around?
   G-get the message... leaving...
I thought so. And tell your cheap bastard friends they're not welcome either. Man, I hate zombies.