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10:19 a.m. - 2002-09-28
Yes, I think I'll be working after I'm dead.
Egad, man! I’m plum tuckered out!

The kind of tired that has you looking forward to the day that they put you in that nice, cushy coffin to enjoy the sleep of ages.

My luck dictates, however, that as soon as I get buried a satanic cult will utter the words to bring about the night of the living dead and I’ll be forced to get up early once again.

That reminds me, have you ever heard that your hair and fingernails keep growing after you die? I read somewhere that it is just a myth that was brought about by the fact that as your flesh decomposes, the fingernails and hair that are beneath your skin become exposed making them seem longer. Well, whatever the case, I just want it known right now that before I take my dirt nap, I want a haircut. If the above scenario ever does come to pass with the crawling out of the graveyard and searching for brains and such, I don’t want to look like no motherfucking hippy zombie.

This is another reason why they call me “The Smarts” right here, thinking ahead. You see, after all the zombie work is done and the living are turned into unliving, obviously the economy will be wide open and ready to be taken advantage of. If you, and your zombie family were looking to buy a house or a mini-van, would you be more likely to buy it from me, looking neat and dapper with my pre burial haircut having grown out to an acceptable length, or some straggly looking granola crunching skeleton who looks like he’d rather be smoking a bowl than taking care of your housing and transportation needs?

Mmmm-hmmm. “The Smarts”.


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