All he ever did was sit in his room, screaming into forums about how everyone else was the problem — women, bosses, "society," anyone who dared to not agree with him. Never worked a day he didn't have to. Never once considered he might be the issue.

Then the outbreak came and gave this loser exactly what he always wanted deep down: nobody left to argue with, and a body nobody could ever push around again.

Twenty years later he's a mountain of fungus and spite, and somewhere under all that growth, the attitude never actually went anywhere. Still bitter. Still convinced he's owed something. Still talking down to people, when the fungus lets him talk at all.