"Nothing like this ever ends well," she said,

there would be no miracle today. The library book was two weeks overdue and it had to go back. We walked through the doors and stood before the desk. Emily startled at "Next."

A librarian took the book, noticed it was overdue, and promptly shot us a dirty look.

Mikey, the simple-minded lackey of the crew, said "Well shoot, it's a good thing she never noticed the anthrax. Once again angered by his stupidity, the gang took turns beating him

senselessly, which was a rather fruitless endeavor seeing as he lacked much sense in the first place. Luckily the commotion did give the girl a chance to escape, a chance she took

She ran through the back door, seeking to escape from the swarming sea of Sigmund Freud impersonators, but happened to run headlong into a vintage armchair.

Her faced pressed into the back of the chair, there was no means of escape from the on-rush of Freuds. They psychoanalyzed her until the end of time, even her bones. The End.

The end... would not come soon enough for her. In fact, time seemed to stretch on for an eternity, but surely it could have only been a few seconds. She awoke, gasping for breath..

Her eyes adjusted to the light of the operating room. "Where am I?" she asked. "I'm sorry", a voice responded, "we had to do this. I'm very sorry." The man showed her a mirror and

then John was a zombie.