corpsified

"We," I said, pausing dramatically for effect, allowing the chattering non-silence of our environs to envelop us as I waited for the moment of resumption to descend upon me, "are the walking dead."

As evidence for my assertion, I presented Victor with a cold, even stare, unblinking in the smoky haze -- a feat of unusual difficulty for me, since my eyes water easily and abundantly when exposed to smoke.

With his usual indifference, Victor endured my corpse-like stare. The moment of dramatic punctuation arrived and left, unmourned. I frowned at Victor.

"Dude," I said.

"Wha?"

"You fucked it up, you peckerhead."

"Fucked what up?" said Victor.

"I had this totally cool thing to talk about and I set it all up dramatically and whatnot, and then you went and ignored it, you bastige."

Victor shrugged.