This Easter Week my family and I have been binge-watching all the episodes of the seventh season of the TV series “The Walking Dead”, two or three episodes every night. A real marathon-viewing of zombies! If only Franco should rise from the dead! When I was a little girl I hated Easter Week with all my might (children’s hatred is the strongest emotion and can never, ever, be forgotten). If it hadn’t been for Enid Blyton’s Famous Five and my “Mortadelo and Filemón” comic books, I would have gone (even more) bananas. 
Back then, the only thing on TV was Roman films, and I had watched all of them so many times that I could perfectly recite the dialogues between Ben-Hur and his hated/beloved Messala. Oh, if only I had known that with the passing of time I was going to spend my whole Easter Week in a zombie universe my heart would have jumped for joy and my constant uneasiness in that oppressive and ominous atmosphere would have placated very much! I could have endured better the misfortunes and disappointments still to come. How I would have laughed in my mom’s face when she would tell me to hush up because Jesus had died on the cross!
In the end, all in the family of zombies! Jesus is, after all, technically a zombie, isn’t He? A man resurrected from the dead, but good and handsome. THAT’STHE DIFFERENCE! 
When Jesus rises from the dead He is an Adonis, full of kindness, the guy everyone loves to be with. 
The horrible zombies, the ones that come to life in a deplorable state, are the rest of us: the ordinary mortals, just average Joe zombies, full of evil intent toward our fellow human beings (still alive and kicking). So eager to sink our teeth into their entrails and gobble them up. We, common creatures, without Jesus’ pedigree, die and come to life again in the worst possible way, as stinking, putrid corpses. We are large chunks of maggoty flesh and viscera, always tetchy and in a bad mood. The classic zombies are very slow (but don’t be too overconfident: they always grab you), in the George A. Romero style, heavily flavored with good black and white films that recall Boris Karloff portraying Frankenstein’s monster. Modern zombies, Korean-style, run faster than Usain Bolt, so if you ever have the misfortune of bumping into them: last one is a rotten egg!
So, I think that if Franco should rise from the dead, he would be nothing but a corpse, some dude fled from his grave, like Raska-Yú (popular old song), obviously. However I still have this tremendous doubt: would Franco be a slow or a fast zombie? Maybe if I google it I will find an answer.