Good idea, Troublemaker. Zombies love young chicks, their brains are full of sugar, spice, and everything nice.
The only problem is that Whistler is sure to have guessed this next move. He probably has turned the gym teacher into a trancer. Getting hit by a sled is one thing, try getting hit by a dumbell! Or what if he has gotten to the girls? Being chased by a group of women is every man's dream. Getting chased by out of control trancer women -- well, that's every man's nightmare.
Of course, I may have to risk it. If I don't do something, something fast, then the future is doomed.
Hmmm... troublemaker. Where have I heard that name before..? Wait, wasn't that Whistler's old code name when he was in the galactic service. You're not trying to set me up are you, Troublemaker, or should I say Whistler??
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What? Man, you nuts? You're buggin' out! I just mentioned the schoolgirls cause I know that zombies appreciate the finer things in life, ya know what I mean? Come on, man! You really think I'm this Whistler dude? No way man, no way...
Alright Mr. Deth. I'm sure my imbecilic front is no longer fooling you. Good memory on the code name. Kudos to you. Of course, I do wish I had been able to fool you a bit longer, purely for ego's sake. But enough time has certainly passed for me to track where you're posting from. Silly man, you should know better than to stay in one place for this long! But then, it's already too late for you. If you just turn around, you'll see my surprise for you.
Ah Mr. Deth. I'm going to assume the last post was just the work of one of the drunken masses accessing your account in that god-forsaken coffee shop where you met your end. I cannot be sure, because all my hoard brought to me what the tattered remains of your beloved jacket. I do wish I could take that to mean you are finally gone from this mortal plane and out of my hair, but I know how resilient you noble types are. Rest assured, Mr. Deth, if you are still alive, you will never escape the reaches of me or my hoard.
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