We're the Dead Football Team and We're Going to Blow Up the School
after Buffy the Vampire Slayer
We’re dead, so we can’t expect much, but we thought our photos would still be in the hallway. We thought the trophy room would become a shrine, that there’d be a moment of silence at what was supposed to be our graduation. We thought you wouldn’t forget us this fast.
We trained while nerds were being devoured by hydras and cheerleaders were found dead in the parking lot. We trained while it rained blood, while black tar oozed from the ground. We dedicated our lives to you, and then we died one after another, car crash here, drive-by there, werewolf attack, alcohol poisoning, paranormal activity, you know how it is. You said a few words above our graves and left us to rot. Lucky for us, nothing stays dead in this town for long. Nothing but dreams, that is.
You promised us that the recruiters in the bleachers would take us away from here. We thought that if we could just keep running, head ducked, arms close, we would make it out. We were wrong.
We’ve lit the fuse. Consider this a pep rally, us screaming until we blow the roof off. Us, begging for mercy. Us, crumbling into dust. Us, finally escaping this place.