killing zombies

I have discovered a video game: The House of The Dead. Woohoo!!! I felt a need to destroy SOMETHING, but I didn't want a shooting-at-humans game. Dave & Buster's set me up right! Not just ONE zombie-killing game, not just TWO, but THREE machines, each with a different weapon to use. Oh, yeah! I didn't care about the points I amassed or the levels of play attained - oh, no, not me. I delighted in watching the zombies become headless masses, holes blown in chests, blood splatter all around. Destruction!!!
No, I do not own a gun. Games like this remind me of WHY I don't own a gun. My seven years in the Navy first convinced me that I should not own a gun, and so I do not.
But I sure did enjoy destroying zombies on the three variations of The House of The Dead available to me. In fact, I enjoyed it SO much that a song composed itself as I drove north along I-95, a song which I sang several times on my way to Jekyll Island, singing with great glee and joyfulness. Here it is:

If killing zombies is wrong,
I don’t want to be right.
In the House of the Dead I can slay at will
And I do so with all my might.
With pump-action shotgun
Or hair-trigger Magnum,
It matters not to me.
As long as I can blow their heads clean off
That’s the way it should be.

If killing zombies is wrong,
I don’t want to be right.
If killing zombies is wrong,
I don’t want to be right.
I don’t want to be right
If it means my slaying is over,
I don’t want to be right
If it means the zombies take over.
I don’t want to be right
If killing zombies is w r o n g,
I don’t want to be right.

(To the tune of “(If Loving You Is Wrong) I Don't Want To Be Right”)