Death, Warmed Over

And Munch is sitting here like the Grim Reaper, all dressed in black and chortling during a Charmed marathon. I swear to dog, if there's anything worse than death by your own digestive system, it's suffering it while someone watches every crappy fantasy/sci-fi TV show ever made. I'm surprised he hasn't managed to track down a channel showing Manimal or something.
If you ask me, the old pervert just has the hots for Shannon Dougherty, which in itself is pretty barf-inducing. I shouldn't rag on him, though. He's been here the whole time I've been sick. For some reason, I'm thinking that should be making me think of something, but I can't quite put it together...