I enjoyed this story and chuckled several times at the way the reading gave it a sort of ridiculous pathos. I'd have given it solid marks right up until the end, when it decided to go "deep" and made this unappealing jerk dude into some kind of avatar of the philosophical support for zombiehood. I don't see why he'd have been particularly interesting or frightening to humanity's survivors, and the whole thing with him being the ultimate zombie, the only one who "understands," was just kind of random and pretty thoroughly unsupported by his previous loserhood. (My wife's comment upon the conclusion of the store, "It was cool up until the end. Maybe he'd become famous in his neighborhood, like, 'ZOMG, that creepy guy down the street is infected. Why isn't he wearing pants?' I don't know why he'd become famous around the world, though.") Personally, I don't really care for horror that grosses out instead of terrifying, but I know some people like their gross'n'gory horror, and I won't fuss too much unless it becomes the only thing PP runs. This, like "Oral Tradition," had a core of real spiritual and mental horror in it, illuminated by Alasdair, that for me was somewhat muted by the insistence on being viscerally disgusting instead.
It reminded me of "Brains: A Zombie Memoir," which I'd recommend if you really liked this story. I found "Brains" to be a little too precious for its own good, but it was moderately amusing, focusing on the story as told by a zombie who retains more of his cognitive functions than some of his compatriots and who gathers around him similarly "gifted" zombies, such as a zombie who can still talk, a zombie who can run, etc.
