The joke is the gap between what zombies are supposed to be and what these ones actually want from you. They're grotesque little creatures that move wrong and smell bad, but they're also desperately, pathetically trying to be cute. The comedy lives entirely in that collision, and it never lets go of it for even a second. A two-episode sprint that knows exactly what it is and executes it with zero apology. If the premise makes you laugh immediately, this thing was built for you.
Meet Zo Zo Zo, a peculiar zombie boy navigating life after death with the kind of awkward charm that somehow makes undeath adorable. He's not here to shamble through graveyards or terrorize the living. Instead, he stumbles through daily existence with the self-awareness of a creature who knows he's grotesque but desperately wants to fit in anyway. The comedy comes from watching this rotting protagonist tackle situations that would horrify anyone else: trying to look presentable despite missing chunks, discovering what passes for zombie culture, and generally existing in a world that wasn't designed with the undead in mind. There's something genuinely funny about how hard he tries to be relatable despite being, well, a zombie.