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“Its become much harder to turn a profit since the apocalypse”, Terry moans into his pint in the pub on a friday night.

“You’re right”, agrees Billy. “What with the cost of Zombie attack prevention and weekly radiation checks… Its just becoming almost impossible to sustain economic growth in the current climate”

“You know, i’ve been wondering about that” muses Bob, looking slightly quizzical. “I mean, why should we all be such slaves to the economy, anyway? Its not like money on its own ever made anyone happy. And why this constant demand for growth, anyway? Shouldn’t we aim for stability instead? Its almost like we think economic health is more important than our own wellbeing, isn’t it? I mean, surely that’s not right?”

Terry and Billy exchange glances. Then Terry pulls a pistol from his inside jacket pocket and shoots Bob right between the eyes. “Never even saw the bite marks”, he mutters.

“Time, gentlemen, please” announces Death, looking slightly incongruous as he stoops to get through the doorway without dismounting.

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