"This is probably going to be unbelievably painful," you croak. "Sorry about that."

And then you crack open Tyler's skull like a walnut, and he screams in wretched agony, and you begin devouring his brain in big juicy bites.

At once his thoughts and memories flood into you. School. Driver's training. Girls--holy shit, you can't believe the amount of insanely young tail this little bastard has gotten his hands all over in the past three years. They make even Rachael, in all her 21-year-old glory, look a little dusty by comparison. Aw fuck, man... it's depressing to be faced with it in detail like this, because even if you're ever cured of the zombie thing, you are never going to get anything that mint again without risking a run-in with Dateline. Fuck...

Sufficiently bummed at being reminded what a perverted old fuck you are, you grab the broken pool skimmer and plunge it deep through your left eye socket, instantly killing yourself.


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