I can only imagine how lonely all the zombies must be, now that all the living beings have abandoned New York for New Jersey and parts worse. Well, the zombies can take some comfort in the fact that Jimmy Rudolph is still here! …just don’t tell them where I’m still here at.
Heyyy, Jazz Fans! Jimmy Rudolph here. I have to say, it’s very strange being so alone in what has always been such a crowded city. I’m walking around the studio now in my underwear, scratching at will–which is not unusual for me, I do that all the time, but I miss the outraged gasps and constant calls of “Jimmy, get your pants on, for chrissakes!”
Sure, I could leave with the rest of the fair-weather New Yorkers, taking the easy way out by carrying all their belongings on their back and walking out through the crowded tunnels with a million other people jostling them and zombies trying to pick them off from the perimeter– but I don’t take the easy way out! I prefer to tough it out here, in my bunker, with my vat of Courvoisier. Like the rest of you, I’m no wimp! Just see for yourself below.
(Sniffle) I still get choked up watching that last part. Of all the people who I was sure wouldn’t leave New York, J-Bo was one of them. The studio doesn’t seem the same without her. It certainly doesn’t smell the same. No one could wear Ax Body Spray like her. It stands to reason that if someone as tough as J-Bo couldn’t stay, that other New Yorkers would have no choice but to follow. I just hope they can see her. She’s pretty short.
But as for me, I stay behind, not only because the Big Apple is my home, not only because this is where the jazz lives, but because if only one person stays in this city, then history can’t say that Jimmy Rudolph chased everybody out!