Well, folks, we got our first Zombie Martyr here. Why am I so depressed it isn’t me?
Heyyy, Jazz Fans, Jimmy Rudolph here. Y’know, it seems like only last week I had little Pat Canker on the show. An unemployed classics major with the spunk and determination to volunteer to take the Zombie Census, she didn’t seem like much. She barely broke a hundred on the scale, received no honors at City College, and that blonde came out of a bottle, girlfriend. But now that she has failed so completely at her job as to be eaten by a zombie, her stock has risen, much like she will rise from her grave. Her collegiate underachievement is now seen as heeding a calling higher than mere grades and her reputation is as falsely golden as her hair was before it passed through the zombie’s intestinal tract. Like her namesake, she started small, but as she came to our attention and we began to chew her over, she has grown to occupy the entire inside of our collective left cheek, bringing tears to our eyes whenever we eat. To hear Pat’s last words, check out this video adaptation!
Well, what about me, Fans? Why can’t I be the martyr? I’m more worthy than Pat Canker. I graduated without honors at NYU, which has got to trump graduating without honors at CCNY! I have more gravitas, by 125 pounds, easy. And my hair color is all natural, where I have hair, and the ladies will back me up on that. I’ve been serving soul to NYC for years, keeping the city’s humanity vital while the zombie apocalypse strips it away. Sure, I run from zombies when I see them, while Pat approached them with a handful of stickers, and sure, she died, while I’m still alive. But what’s the good of being a martyr if you can’t enjoy it? Seriously. Who do you have to kill around here to be a martyr?!