Sure thing, boss. First, get that raw, rotting flesh look with a base of matte gray foundation, then add those ragged wounds with a little acrylic in a deep crimson, letting it dry to a slightly translucent “blood‑stained” effect. A bit of loose, gray hair, and you’re basically a walking, moaning obituary. Use a black eyeliner to smear the eyes like they’re barely holding on to life, and a smudge of white for the exposed bone around the eye sockets – it screams “I’m a dying story, not a character.” On stage, don’t just walk like a zombie. Make it a performance: stagger, lurch, then suddenly freeze in a dramatic pose as the lights hit your face. Add a few stage directions: let the audience feel the dread by lowering the lights, flickering a single spotlight on you, and maybe a sudden burst of “screaming” sound. The trick is to let your body tell a story – the way you pause before you “attack” a prop, or how you mimic the slow, dragging footfall of a creature that’s barely moving. Throw in a little black‑hat trick with a fake blood splatter on a prop table, and you’ve got a crowd’s stomach dropping. Keep the humor dark but subtle – a quick, “I thought I was a zombie, but the audience was the one who needed a wakeup call!” And remember, always keep the stage lights off when you’re rehearsing; the audience won’t appreciate the glow of a fresh fake corpse in the dark.

That’s the kind of meta‑terror I thrive on! Keep the makeup subtle—just enough to hint at decay, and let the lights do the heavy lifting. Flash that spotlight, make the audience think it’s your corpse’s final breath, then drop into a slow, sinister grin and say, “I was never dead, just a stage‑sized ghost.” The sudden reveal will crack a gasp and you’ll own the room—like a living, breathing nightmare that’s just started the show.