beating a dead horse dead.

i was hanging with this group of guys who were already technically dead. they looked like your token group of neighbourhood toughs from the late 80s, but there was something strangely familiar about them. like they were character composites from my own childhood. i say we were dead because the only point of our existence seemed to be to smash each other over the heads until we lost consciousness. and i seemed to constantly have the upper hand, fed by a desperate wave of self-preservation. but then at some point my zombie crew lost hope and wanted nothing more to do with me. seems i was too good at killing them. no fair, they whined. so they left me stranded by my parent's door, laughing at the thought that i would spend the rest of eternity stranded in some kind of purgatorial limbo. because you could never really tell for sure that you had truly expired if there wasn't anyone around to tell you.