I told everyone, when I got here - the day I got here! - that I didn't want to be on your Council. That I was a ridiculous choice. That I wanted off. That anyone else at all could put their name forward, and I would hand it right off to them. And what did I get? "Stay on the Council, Doctor." "You'll do fine, Bruce." "It'll build character, Calvin." So, what happens? What's my reward for stepping up and participating in this ridiculous Key-Club-Meets-the-Stanford-Prison-Exper
iment job I never wanted anything to do with?
Zombies. At
the first second? first maybe it was the second one of the first meetings I ever went to - zombies. Rotting, murderous, highly infectious zombies. The next thing I know - the last thing I remember - I'm demanding to see a grocery store manager because the stockboy didn't have any brains.
Literally. You have got to be kidding me. No wonder you don't have term limits. Nobody would run for this damn seat.
I want to go to the moon.
[ TAHANI ]You're pretty tricky, you know that?