by Zombie Edgar Stiles
Just because I died and became a brain-eating zombie doesn't make me your bitch, Milo.
You know, I didn’t ask to die. I liked my job— they always had donuts and muffins in the lunchroom. I also remember seeing Marianne Taylor’s bra strap once. It was purple. But here you are, making a big stink about your not getting the silent clock treatment. Well, the rumor around the graveyard is that you asked to be killed off. Geez, the least you could have done was become a mole or something. Standing up to protect a woman that wasn’t even attracted to you… well, wait a minute; I’ve done that too. But the point is that you tried to deny your inner geek, you ignored your BRAINNNNSS and now you’re dead.
If I was there when that Chinese bounty hunter asked, “who’s in charge?” I don’t think he’d believe me if I said “Yo, Ping, right here!” See, that’s the advantage of accepting your inner geek. I tried the hair gel thing back in the early 90’s. I looked like a greased-up silverback gorilla. But when I stopped trying to be cool and accepted myself for who I was, I was finally happy. And then the terrorists killed my mom with that nuclear reactor meltdown and I was sad again, but then Chloe talked to me about shooting one of the terrorists and I felt happy again. But Milo, you had to try and break free of the geek club. You had to go after the hottest woman in the office. And look what happened? You got all screwed-up and jealous of some other guy and you broke up with the girl before you even got together! And now you’re just a dead guy with a pimp moustache.
No silent clock for you, loser. Now let me eat that fresh BRAINNNNN of yours!
Point: Where's my silent clock?
by Milo Pressman