You know it’s going to be a good night of ghoul season pub crawling when you encounter four lovely zombies on Circuit Avenue, and one of them says, “Wait, I need more blood on my boobs.”

A frightening pack of newly-deceased Islanders made the rounds in Oak Bluffs Thursday evening. They were consistently gory, occasionally inappropriate, and often quite hilarious.

Don't honk at zombies.

Steve Myrick

Don't honk at zombies.

Steve Myrick

Shadows danced and lights flickered in the darkening gloom as the slaughterous group gathered at the Martha’s Vineyard Camp Meeting Association Tabernacle. About 20 zombies spilled out of the Camp Ground and onto the streets. An impatient driver honked his horn, which was a mistake. It prompted an immediate attack. The zombies surrounded his vehicle, invading the passenger compartment with bloody appendages and threats of snacking on his internal organs.

He finally freed himself from the mob and drove off. The pack moved on, except for one zombie who fell behind. He had to retrieve his eyeball, which had rolled under the car in the heat of the battle. When he bent down to pick up his eyeball, the butcher knife impaling his skull fell out. It took him awhile to reassemble himself.

A zombie who appeared nominally in charge announced the first stop on the tour.

“I hear they have fresh brains, livers, tongues, anything you want.”

And then they invaded The Barn Bowl & Bistro.

Steve Myrick

And then they invaded The Barn Bowl & Bistro.

Steve Myrick

The crowd at The Barn Bistro & Bowl was delighted when the zombies lurched in. A patron was curious about one zombie with creepy white eyes.

“Those are cool, are those contacts?”

“No, these are my eyes.”

A man with a head bandage ordered a beer. Someone had done a poor job of dressing the wound. His brains were falling out. Perhaps it was the surgeon zombie across the bar who messed up. There were a lot of blood stains on her blue scrubs.

Another zombie with particularly gruesome wounds was asked how he died. His response was a vacant stare, as blood dripped from the knife in his back. A woman standing next to him responded.

“His wife did it.”

Then, after a perfectly-timed dramatic pause, she said, “I’m his wife.”

With that, the whole deathly assemblage drained the last of their libations and staggered on to their next stop.

More photos of the zombie bar crawl.