Almost fifty years ago, in August, a Zombie apocalypse came upon us, and some believe the sunset of humanity began. The transformation snuck up on all of us with very little we could do about it.
One by one, men, women and children fell into its trance and left their homes to wander aimlessly throughout the city streets and life. Blind to all around them with everyone swaying unbalanced with every step they took away from their humanity.
Soon the streets were full of Zombies bumping into each other, swaying back and forth with every step upon the asphalt and concrete pavements. Slowly, their movements aligned into some sort of weird massive rhythmic dance. The zombies slowly aligned into columns and rows pouring out of the cities.
Now herds of inhuman cattle moving away, in mass, altogether on an unknown leaderless quest. All moving in the same direction, all swaying rhythmically along the highways to a compass point. Unlike lemmings quickly drawn to the sea, the zombies converged toward a long forgotten farm field in upstate New York.
After fifty years of foot fall screaming and rhythmic wailing, they pushed into the field to hear a hoarse voice from antique speakers screech and scream, “Welcome, to the Fiftieth Anniversary! Let Woodstock 2019 Begin!” Unfailingly, unintelligible screaming and wailing rocked the New World Order of Zombies.