Along with a good portion of the country,

Along with a good portion of the country, I am still unemployed.
I prowl the streets with pockets full of resumes, looking to network with seated at a Starbucks. I have my elevator speech ready, "I add value by
admitting up front that I suck up resources and will completely disappoint you over and over again." The truth seemed to disarm some people in these short resume pitches. Larvae
crawled from my ear and I quickly pushed it back in. I can't let them see I'm a zombie, who would hire a dead person!? My urge to eat brains had subsided and the interview was over
so I grabbed my abdomen to prevent my organs falling out, and left the building. I suspected maggots were eating my zombie brain as I couldn't remember which job I'd applied for.
I headed to the Zombie Defamation League and protested that the company had a "Don't Die, Don't Tell" hiring policy. The ZDL gave me some staples to reattach my various innards.
And some disinfectant to prevent gangrene. The rights of the Unliving improved remarkably in the last decade. Back when we shambled on Washington singing Grateful Dead songs
and dry humped greasy women in smelly tents. When the "Dead" still had Jerry Garcia we were at the peak of our powers and we commanded
ant hills at best.
"Don't talk about my boobs that way," she commanded, smacking him across the face. She talked a big game, but deep down, she knew she was flatter than week-old soda.

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