“Yeah. I was an English major at San Diego State back in the day. Lonnie went there too, but he dropped out in his junior year.”

“Right, he told me he dropped out. He used it as another reason why I should quit Stanford after two years. Like, we could share being dropouts together.”

“Well, Lonnie was never college material in the first place,” Marty sniffs. “He was just studying business. We’re humanities people.” Funny thing to say to a zom, but Marty is desperately trying to bond, and I can’t blame him. “I bet you regret not finishing school now,” he goes like he’s psychic.

“I do. I’m sure I had a great acting, directing, screenwriting and writing career ahead of me. I was thinking I could be, like, the Kathy Acker of the new century, maybe. Get into fiction and nonfiction. I could write Blood and Guts in Porn School.”

“And you wouldn’t even need the tattoos. Not with that body.”

Pretty nifty interpolation from the Martster. I admit I’m starting to like this guy. “On the other hand, I made four great films, which fucking revolutionized the business. I also regret not making the fifth, which was sorta in production. I mean, we have the rough script. It was going to kick serious ass.”