"Johnny... I'm in love with you."
"What are you talking about Beatrice?"
"I'm telling you that I'm in love with you!"
"But how?"
"Whatever do you mean Johnny?"
"You are an ill-tempered zombie, Beatrice!"
"So what?"
"So you aren't supposed to even have feelings!"
"Details... details..."
"I think that this is just another one of your evil plots to
suck my brains out."
"Can't you forgive me Johnny? I tried doing that only three
times!"
"Three times too much, sadly."
"So my past wrong-doings will forever be a constant barrier
in our relationship?"
"WHAT relationship?"
"Are you trying to imply that you don't carry the same
feelings towards me?"
"Yes!"
"I implore you to change your mind Johnny."
"Or you'll what? Suck my brains out?"
"You know, Johnny, ill-tempered zombies have many other
means of torture."
"What can be more horrifying than losing one's brain?"
"Have you ever heard of the 'Barney Treatment'?"
"No! You wouldn't!"
"Yes! I would! 1,000 hours of horror and despair watching
reruns of old Barney episode."
"Damn you woman... I mean ill-tempered zombie."
"Damn me? Done that. How do you think I became an
ill-tempered zombie?"
"Actually, you never did get around to telling me that
story."
"Well, if you insist. It was a dreary night. The moon was
full, the wolves were howling and the monsters were
yearning."
"Yearning?"
"You know... craving. Wishing. Hoping."
"No, I knew that! What I meant was, yearning for what?"
"Well, what monsters always yearn for!"
"And what is that? Blood? Souls of the innocents? Bodies of
fallen comrades? Revenge upon mortals?"
"No... no... nothing unsophisticated like that. Monsters
yearn for margarine!"
"Margarine?"
"Yes! Margarine!"
"Not butter?"
"Why would monsters yearn for butter?"
"I don't know. Why do monsters yearn for margarine?"
"Because it's cheep and its taste can't be beat."
"Umm... continue your story."
"Oh, yes, I forgot all about that. Margarine always takes my
mind off other, unmeaningful matters."
"You call your untimely demise something unmeaningful?"
"Well, death isn't that special when you come to think of
it. Especially if you're an ill-tempered zombie."
"Oh... so, you were saying..."
"Ah, of-course. Anyhow... I was walking in the street, when
a weird looking fellow muttered the word 'Dammit'."
"And?"
"And that's it. Apparently, he was a mage, and he
accidentally killed me because he cursed his untied
shoelaces. But being that he was sorry and all, he tried to
repent by reincarnating me as an ill-tempered zombie."
"And what did he do then?"
"Not much. I sucked his brains out."
"Understandable."
"..."
"..."
"Johnny?"
"Yes Beatrice?"
"Why won't you love me?"
"For a number of reasons."
"Which are?"
"Well, first of all, I believe that all this is just an evil
plot of yours to suck my brains out."
"You said that already."
"Hey, you asked. Second, you are much older than I am."
"Only by 700 years!"
"What can I say? I'm an old-fashioned guy. Third, I don't
really know you that well Beatrice."
"Of-course you do! I've locked you up in a dungeon and
threatened your life at least a dozen times."
"But is that enough to base a relationship on?"
"Yes!"
"...Oh, damn it. Who am I kidding? I love you Beatrice! I've
loved you ever since the day you burst into my home and
murdered my family!"
"Do you really mean that Johnny? I've been heart-broken
enough times before!"
"Yes! I do! I swear this to you in all that's unholy!"
"Oh Johnny! Embrace me! Embrace me here and now!!!"
"Oh Beatrice!"
"Oh Johnny!"
"Oh, Beatrice!"
"Oh, Johnny!"
"Oh... Beatrice? What are you doing?"
"Why, sucking out your brains of-course."
"But... but why? I loved you! I trusted you!"
"That's all your fault. What kind of an idiot trusts an
ill-tempered zombie?!"


31/5/2001