Before the apocalypse, Joe was a successful businessman in NYC. He worked as a stockbroker on Wall Street and wore Brooks Brothers suits and a Rolex watch. He lived with his wife and son in a luxury apartment on Park Avenue and dined in the finest restaurants. His upscale lifestyle demanded he meet many deadlines, quotas and commitments. He was in constant competition with his peers in a dog eat dog world.
Today Joe no longer wears suits but shambles about in his underwear. He still lives in a dog eat dog world but now he is an oozing, drooling, stinking vessel of rotting flesh. He spends each day and night doing one thing, trying to satisfy his eternal, ravenous hunger. It wasn’t personal, but his wife ate their son, and he ate his wife. Joe no longer conducts financial seminars for clients, now he only grunts unintelligibly. He wanders the streets of Manhattan hoping to sink his three remaining teeth into a sliver of maggot infested roadkill he won’t have to share with something else.
Life is simple. No more back stabbing and kissing ass. Just eat, eat, eat.
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