When I sit down at my desk, I hear someone moaning beside me. I look over to my right and see the zombified corpse of my classmate. I look down at my desk, waiting for the teacher to begin today's lesson.The teacher begins talking to the twenty bodies staring empty minded up at her. I try to pick up what she is saying, but I am too dead to understand.
I faintly remember the old days, many years ago, back when we were all still alive. Homework was just a nuisance, and we spent our days dreaming and playing. How did it all end up this way?
One by one, in a silent, dead line, we carry our homework up to the teacher. She gives us a look of utter disappointment, scolding us for our lack of effort and motivation. She told us again, as she does each day, how we are expected to put in our best effort into all of our work.
If I wasn't so drained, if my rotten throat could speak, I would have told her what I felt. How can we put our best into our work if our best is below what you expect? Can't you see how drained we all are from spending all of our time trying to complete our tasks? How can you expect a group of zombies to do the work of the living?
