Corn is raining from the skies, roots are slinging the strongest syringe of death, impenetrable walls that are only edible have been formed, and fire is smothering your friend's shirts: you are a zombie fighting the defenses of a garden. The flagman you know, he's so patriotic for the zombie nation, he tries to rush out there, even if you know it's hopeless. Zomboss, your leader, hasn't made an effective plan for weeks. Hordes of you die hopelessly for the last vestige of food. You groan, and leave, resisting the urge to just fight this war for a mere morsel of that man's brain. Then, you find an RV, it's large, red, and adorned with gadgets. You see Zomboss, with his massive head and pale skin, filling up the tires.
He laughs as he sees you. His eyes are massive in person. You try to think of something to say, but he gets there first. "Hello! Would you like to be the first driver of 'Penny'?", he says. "Brains." you say in response, nonchalantly. "Of course! This, if I'm right, will send you, and any passengers you bring with you, back in time, and even into the future!", he says, hopeful. You've never seen Zomboss like this, or even seen him in person before. The television screens you saw him in only showed his face, with his brain straining and bulging, and maybe his lab coat. Yet, his teeth are more yellow than you thought, and his lab coat, once a brilliant white, was covered with the stains of work.
He hasn't gone out of his crouch yet. You finally say something other than brains, "May I?" you ask with a warped somberness you could not explain. He gave you his hand. "Do you remember how to drive?", he asks you.
"Brains." It was the only response you could make to such a question. Of course you could. You lived out a life as a human before, but that only mattered insofar as the barrack pictures Zomboss gave to the army. Your suit and tie, the uniform of most units, was starting to be blotched by the oil of Penny. The headlights came on, and a woman's voice came through. "Who is my driver?", she asked. "Him, the one with the green skin. If you find a driver with pale skin, befriend him. He will be your driver after him." Zomboss said.
Penny, somehow nodded. "And here's a wad of hot-sauce. Give it to the paleskin when you meet him.", the genius in the room continued. "I know he'll love it." his voice rang with a level of menacing power and dread you wished he brought forward to the other zombies. Penny had the bottle, after it was placed in a shuttle of sorts. You finally limped over into the driver's seat, and vaguely gestured your foot over to the gas pedal.
"Which year would you like to go to?", Penny asked.
You knew that you needed to say something that wasn't just brain, so you searched in your growing repertoire of English words to say… "The time with the most Brains." You'd make Zomboss proud.