It's okay, Gunthr. There is certainly something disconcerting about the dead who don't die. Unseemly. Inconsiderate.
My childhood was terrorized by the undead variant known as The Mummy's Ghost. Cotton-pickin heap of rags chased me everywhere. Fortunately he and zombie buddies like him were slow, and nothing is faster than a scared kid.
(Scary movie rule No. 1: Never make monsters faster than the audiences or they will eat the audiences and box office receipts will plummet.)
Other monsters added to my torment. Until one night when a giant ape stared in my window and I said to myself (my first epiphany), THIS IS JUST A DREAM! I punched the ape in the face, and he went away. So did his creepy associates.
And then I read threads like this, and realize -- the zombies are still chasing somebody somewhere. You are now advised as the pilgrims were when they confronted the rabbit in Monty Python: Run Away! Run Away!
But first punch them in the face.
