Once upon a time in a desolate, crumbling town, there was a zombie named Clyde. Unlike the other zombies that roamed the streets with their unquenchable hunger for human flesh and brains, Clyde had a problem—he couldn’t stand the taste of them.
From the moment Clyde was turned into a zombie, he knew something was wrong. His first bite into a human arm sent a wave of nausea through his body. The squishy texture, the iron tang of blood—it was unbearable. While the other zombies reveled in their meals, Clyde would gag and spit out the chunks he tore off.
“I don’t get it,” he groaned one day to a fellow zombie, Gary, who was happily munching on a brain. “How do you eat this stuff? It’s disgusting!”
Gary paused, blinking his dead eyes. “It’s what we are now, Clyde. You eat, or you starve.”
But Clyde couldn’t do it. No matter how many times he tried, no matter how ravenous his undead body felt, the thought of biting into flesh revolted him. He tried gnawing on bones, licking at blood, but nothing worked. His hunger grew stronger, yet the solution seemed impossible.
One day, Clyde wandered into an abandoned bakery. The smell of stale bread and pastries tickled his senses in a way flesh never did. Curious, he grabbed an old loaf and hesitantly took a bite. The staleness was overwhelming, but compared to human meat, it was heavenly.
From then on, Clyde became the oddball of the zombie horde. While others devoured the living, he raided every pantry, bakery, and grocery store for any remaining food that didn’t bleed. He’d sit on a broken park bench, gnawing on moldy bread or slurping up spoiled milk, while the others gorged on their gruesome meals.
“You’re a disgrace to zombies,” one of them snarled at him, brain goo dripping from its mouth.
Clyde just shrugged. “Maybe, but I’m happy.”
And as the world around him continued to decay, Clyde found his own peculiar way of existing. He wasn’t just another mindless, flesh-eating monster. He was Clyde—the zombie who craved bread instead of brains.
