User:Flask of syrup/Sefer Haudenshild's speech

"Half a score years ago, a great Maltonite, in whose zombolic shadow we stand began the Emancipation Zombification. This momentous change came as a great beacon of light of hope to millions of slaves to human malice. It came as a joyous man-feast to end the long night of hunger.

But ten months later, we must face the human fact that the zombie is still not free. Ten months later, the undead life of the zombie is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. Ten months later, the zombie lives on a lonely island of foodlessness in the midst of a vast ocean of weapons prosperity. Ten months later, the zombie is still languishing in the corners of Malton society and finds itself an exile in his own land.

So I have come here today to dramatize an appalling condition, namely eating more harmanz. In a sense we have come to our suburb's mallto EAT A HARMAN. When the architects of our city built this magnificent mall of Ackland, they were creating a consumer's paradise from which harmanz could never flee due to promise of neverending items. This mall was a promise that all harmanz would be guaranteed the inalienable rights of life, liberty from zombies, and the pursuit of consumeration.

It is obvious today that Ackland Mall has defaulted on this promise insofar as her zombies are concerned. Instead of honouring this sacred obligation to all, Ackland has given the zombie people a bad check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." This is ironic because zombies have no use for money. Rather, I refuse to believe that there are insufficient harmanz in the great vaults of opportunity of this Mall. So I have come to break these doors -- doors that will give us upon demand the riches of flesh and the security of justice against harmanz. I have also come to this hallowed spot to remind Malton of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off in the Mall or to take the tranquillising drug of PCP. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of the Malton alley to the sunlit path of racial justice by eating all races. Now is the time to open the doors of opportunity for all of zombies. Now is the time to lift our mall from the quick-sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood...by eating all races.

It would be fatal for the mall to overlook the urgency of the moment and to underestimate the determination of the zombie. This sweltering summer of the zombie's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of blood and flesh rending. The month of May is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Zombie needed to have its head blown off and will now be content will have a rude awakening when THEIR HEADS ARE CHEWN OFF. There will be neither rest nor tranquillity in Malton until the zombie is granted his citizenship eating rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our malls until the red day of eating emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my brothers who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of static harman bodies. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of red food dye and stealing bodies for our own. We must make the pledge that we shall march ahead into the Mall. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of Zombie rights, "When will you be satisfied?" They will be swiftly eaten. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities without being shot, stabbed, punched, mutilated, torn apart, even eaten by other zombies. We cannot be satisfied as long as the zombie's basic mobility is from one block to two blocks in 3 AP. We can never be satisfied as long as a zombies in Darvall Heights cannot vote and a zombie in Havercroft believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls in front of us some heads like water from a mighty stream.

I am not mindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations because I do not have a working brain. But I still have some cognition left and do know that some of you have come fresh from bullet wounds. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the guns of persecution and staggered by the dogs of harman brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Spracklingbank, go back to Kinch Heights, go back to Nixbank, go back to Roywood, go back to the alleys and streets of our northern suburbs, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of our own. I say to you today, my brothers, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have remembrance of my dream. It was a dream deeply rooted in the Malton dream.

I still have remembrance of a dream that one day this city will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created to be eaten equally."

I still have remembrance of a dream that one day on the red hills of Earletown the sons of former zombies and the sons of former zombie hunters will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood, and that zombie child will eat the harman child...and the harman child will not mind because he knows he has no choice.

I still have remembrance of a dream that one day even the suburb of Pennville, a desert suburb, sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of harmless harmans and body parts.

I still have remembrance of a dream that my four children will one day live in a city where they will not be judged by the lack of their skin but by the contents of their stomach.

I still have remembrance of a dream today.

I still have remembrance of a dream that one day the suburb of Judgewood, whose harmans's lips are presently dripping with the meed and nectar of other animals they are allowed to eat,will be transformed into a situation where little zombie boys and zombie girls will be able to join teeth and flesh with little harman boys and harman girls and eat and be eaten together as sisters and brothers.

I still have remembrance of a dream today.

I still have remembrance of a dream that one day every alley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Zombie shall be revealed, and all flesh shall be eaten together.

This will be the day when all my children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My city, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I eat. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let zombies eat." And if Malton is to be a great city this must become true. So let harman screams ring from the prodigious hilltops of Shearbank. Let harman howls ring from the mighty mountains of Roywood. Let Zombie munching ring from the heightening bodie piles of Buttonville! Let freedom ring from the blood-capped buildings of Miltown! Let freedom ring from the curvaceous corpses of Old Arkham! From every suburb, let freedom ring.

When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every harman mouth and every harman squeal, from every suburb and every alleyway, we will be able to speed up that day when all of zombie children, zombie's and zombies, zombies and zombies, zombies and zombies, will be able to join hands and eat in the words of the old zombie spiritual, "Food at last! Food at last! thank God Almighty, Harmanz are food at last!"