For reasons too dull or humiliating to go into, I ended up blah blah blah. Single again, embittered or whatever. I once had a passable future but it had evaded me, or blah blah blah, with the dusty streets and the bars without clocks and the blah fucking piss off blah blah. One of the days, I was just sitting watching the tumbleweed and the little tornadoes of dust on the road outside. A removal lorry pulled up and big men began carrying large articles of furniture shrouded in blankets up the steps to the empty house opposite my block. The people or the blah blah blah, but it wasnt for about a week until I realised that they were watching me. I can't continue with this. give it to me straight. I am living quietly, zombie public limited company move in over the road, the workers look at us with hungry eyes, we lock the doors but to no avail, they get in, they eat our brains, we are reborn as zombies, slaves to the company, but it turns out not so bad, being a zombie is ok, but really we want to be free or something. i like your pitch. it's an interesting metaphor. we'll put a package together. create a buzz. we could be talking telephone numbers. [HEADS EXPLODE. BLOOD SPLATTERS EVERYWHERE. CUT TO: MTV]