Frank W. Abagnale, Jr.
A fascinating man, if fractionally fabled, with an intriguing and highly practical expertise. While he's supposed to have been long-since rehabilitated, and I am not exactly the epitome of cunning, I fancy I could take away a useful mite of interest or two. And, man, just imagine the stories he could tell.

(Okay, so Mr. Abagnale isn't "historical" in the common conception of the word, mostly on account of being not dead, plus you probably won't find him in any standard history book. However, one might say he "has a history"--and a remarkable one, at that. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.)

Charles Lutwidge Dodgson
AKA Lewis Carroll, AKA "a f***ing dork." We are much alike, Charlie and I--he being the wittier, more imaginative, more allegedly pedophiliac, and altogether "f***ing dork"-ier between us. We'd get along famously, I wot, as we talked of many things:

"Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

TBA...

There is an undeniable undeadness about me--e.g., a marked absence of vitality, corruption of complexion, the stirrings of an unnatural appetite. I wouldn't blame anyone for thinking me half-zombie to begin with.

This being the case, when the dearly departed disinter (or in the event of a Resident Evil-esque viral outbreak) to roam ravenously, glutting on grey matter, they'd be apt to see me as sufficiently kindred to be kept unmolested. I'd be at a unique advantage. While the rest of the yet-living are preoccupied with keeping their skulls intact, I'll be free to be out and about, doing as I very well please (pilfering in preparation for the post-apocalyptic period, for example). Additionally, I'd play the hero to some, covertly aid the cerebrum slurpers against others, dispatch a handful of hordes in all manner of ways purely for the lulz, and generally have myself a hell of a time.

Test 1