Horror probed the portal with one finger, absently wondering if this would give him teleportation powers before deciding that if it was safe enough for a robot clone, it was safe enough for a monster amalgam. Or something. With a might, horrific shrug, he strolled through the portal...<br/><br/>...only to be greeted by the sight of the Great Owlperson Massacre. Once the stench of blood, feathers, and regurgitated field mice reached his nostrils, he recoiled and vomited all over the nearest patron, a slovenly looking man who, despite the carnage around him, seem intent on finishing his mediocre wings and beer.<br/><br/>"My apologies," Horror began, but the man shook his head.<br/><br/>"No worries. Ain't my first time in a Whooters." Disgustingly enough, the vomit seemed to make the wings more appetizing. Horror snatched one up and munched away, contemplating the implications of being able to see, smell, and vomit, despite having had his internal organs - brain included - all removed back during his desert cult days. As he finished his wing, the gross man gave a lurch and slammed his head onto the puke, blood, and mouse covered table, before suddenly jerking back up and staring straight at him.<br/><br/>"Master?"<br/><br/>Horror raised an eyebrow. "And what manner of creature are you, now?"<br/><br/>"It seems your vomit has transformed me into a zombie."<br/><br/>"Gross. Why are you talking."<br/><br/>"Well, I'm a chicken-zombie and - "<br/><br/>"Kill the owl-ladies."<br/><br/>"Of course, master!" The strange zombie man snatched up his utensils and pounced on the nearest fleeing, hooting, woman. Horror averted his eyes, having a particularly weak non-stomach for a monster. There came the sounds of hooting, gnashing of teeth, blood splatter, and more than a few murmurs of "Tastes like chicken" while Horror retrieved a non-vomit covered menu and began to read.<br/><br/>"None of this sounds appetizing!" Now more disgruntled than anything, he grabbed a waitress. "Excuse me, ma'am, do you have anything on this menu that isn't absolutely disgusting?"<br/><br/>"Whooo...ho?"<br/><br/>"Yes, I know you don't set the menu, but look at this now!" He started to show her the menu then sighed. "Oh, nevermind. Will you see if the cooks will bring me a salad?" She tried to run away, as the Nightman was approaching fast, but he steered her away and towards the kitchen. "There's a nice tip in it for you," he shouted after her. "A nice handful of small rodents! Now where was I? Ah yes."<br/><br/>Horror took the zombie-man's former seat, brushed everything onto the floor, vomit included, retrieved a newspaper inexplicably from his jacket. He started flipping through the pages. "Now...sports, sports...sports..."