It is a truth universally acknowledged, that

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune cookie must be in want of a

powerful antacid, ultra-strength breath mint, and well cushioned recliner. And so it was, that after King Hwa's moderately well-known Emperor's Buffet, I found myself in the local

pound. My minty-fresh breath might have been the only thing that saved me that day. A family

trait that made us smell like bark paper made us tasty targets for Mayan bookworms. Luckily, the halitoxerol in my breath mints scrambled their brains so they turned toward James P

and licked him to death. I grabbed my bag and ran towards the landing strip. With the power of my mints I was able to sneak up on the practically blind creatures and attack their

weakest point, the screw cap at the top of their head. I'd drop a few mentos in and tighten it down, then run for cover as their skulls ballooned outwards

Electroshock therapy was making a stunning comeback in 2016, I read. All we needed was more zombies on the streets of chicago. And everywhere else.

-oincidentally. The only thing our zombie government was really good at was cutting funeral costs. They ate the dead, so there was nothing to bury. The mortician's union was angry.

This led to the Great Undertakers' Strike. With nowhere to go, people refused to die, crumbling the zombie government's voter base. President Umf appeared on Seinfeld to no avail.