Big Daddy was hungry, so very very hungry.

He could feel the swift and incessant pangs of hunger in his body, and all he could think about was sinking his teeth into thick, juicy flesh. Or even freshly plucked intestine would do. He wasn't picky.

In reality Big Daddy didn't know why he felt so hungry all the time, or why he chased certain creatures and not others. He knew there were scores of tasty food - walking food bags, he liked to think of them - just waiting for him and his "friends", but he didn't know where they were, exactly.

Speaking of those walking food bags...

Big Daddy shambled off the porch where he was standing and watched as the food bags hooted and shouted loudly, as they rode those rather mysterious lumps of metal that emitted smoke, noise, and lights. Above him, sparkles of bright light sliced through the night sky, but unlike the others, Big Daddy wasn't affected. As the food bags jabbed those sticks of death at his comrades, Big Daddy howled with rage. His eyes flashed and he longed to hold one of those food bags in his grasp and squeeze them until their blood flowed through his fingers.

Big Daddy growled and tried to shake at least one of his "friends" awake, to snap them out of the trance those lights had on them.

No luck.

He seized the nearest "friend" by the hair and a split second later, a staccato of bangs issued from the food bags - damn them all to hell - and he was left holding the severed head of his "friend". Another cry of agony slipped from his lips, and he vowed to hunt the food bags to the ends of the earth.

Big Daddy dropped the severed head and stomped on it, slightly relishing the thick crunch of bone and the squelch of blood as it oozed onto the pavement.

He looked at all the "friends" who surrounded him, and together they made a silent promise: to find and exterminate all food bags in retribution for the destruction of their kind.

The age of humans will end. The age of zombies will begin.