Zombie Knitting

Inspired by the zombie armageddon imagination exercise in the Dawn of the Dead remake, I am reading zombie short stories. Last night it was Stephen King's Home Delivery in his Nightmares & Dreamscapes. Ghoulish zombies, yes, but not enough of them. Only mentions of the living being cannibalized - more gore, please.

The one highlight in the story lies in the pleasure this prodigal daughter of knitting got from the following two paragraphs:

The cold cobwebs of bone, which were all that remained of his fingers touched her throat before the baby kicked in her stomach - for the first time - and her shocked horror, which she had believed to be calmness, fled, and she drove one of the knitting needles into the thing's eye.

Making horrid thick choking noises that sounded like the suck of a swill pump, he staggered backward, clawing at the needle, while the half-made pink bootie swung in front of the cavity where his nose had been. She watched as a sea slug squirmed from that nasal cavity and onto the bootie, leaving a trail of slime behind it.