Somewhere, our Lady of Snark, Saint Get-a-Grip Bea Arthur awoke from her eternal slumber with a start.  “It’s happening,” she murmured to the cold marble walls of her tomb. “The prophecy! I didn’t think it was real. But the wheels have been set into motion to prepare the earth for my return to the living. The first sign! ‘An Australian former child star shall don the Sacred Garb of Zbornak and walk amongst her peers in a land known only by its coordinates.’ Yes. This is it.  The first sign! It has occurred. I feel myself…growing stronger. Craving oxygen. My eyes seem almost as if they could roll again, disgustedly. Now I need only wait for the rest of the prophecy to come to pass! For a prince of manor born to find shame in snow! For a daughter of Kardashia to be chosen for combat! For a creature, orange and blustery, to move into a home of purest white! Once those signs foretold have been fulfilled, then — only then — will I, Zombie Bea Arthur, walk the earth again, dispensing irritated wisdom to all who deserve it. How soon, human friends, how soon will I join you, anew in the land of the living? And will Betty let me crash on her couch for a couple of days?”

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