My husband and I have resisted The Walking Dead phenomenon until now. My reasons are threefold:
- I get scared, fairly easily, and reanimated human flesh doesn’t help.
- I have no time to get caught up on a television show in its third season.
- I know I will love it and therefore obsess over the finer and more gruesome points until I myself resemble a Walker.
So, as I said on Friday in this post, my son is in Texas for the week. I don’t know what I did before Sam was born, but I sure as hell don’t remember having this much time on my hands. Yes, I’m editing my manuscript (again, and hopefully for the last time until selling it!). Yes, I got Jillian Michael’s 30-day Shred DVD and used it today. (At one point there were noticeable tears.) Yes, I cleaned the stove, and walked the dog, and took a relaxing bubble bath.
We watch The Walking Dead, of course.
Here is a poorly recalled transcript of Nathan and I watching the pilot:
Rick walks around with a gas can, gun secured stupidly in his pocket. My husband gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the poor bastard didn’t know about the Zombie Apocalypse. The sad sack.
Husband: It’s not like you walk around expecting an undead to wander up beside you in house shoes.
Me: Clearly some mischief is afoot — ALL THE CARS ARE ABANDONED!
The little girl with the bear and the missing jaw approaches.
Me: Shoot her. Either way, this does not bode well.
Scene Where Rick Wanders Around Town-
My notes on this: Shoes. He goes home, but he doesn’t get dressed. No shoes+ no pants= very vulnerable situation.
Husband: He’s in a fairly distressed state of mind.
Me: Still, survival instincts. Where is he gonna go without footwear?
Husband: He’s messed up. He was shot and woke up to a loading dock of mutilated corpses.
Me: Who probably still have some loafers he could borrow.
Scene At the Police Station-
They raid the armory. I would have gathered, in no particular order, the following:
- Machete, multiple
- Flame Thrower
- Grenades (for large scale attacks)
- Sawed off shotgun
- Hand gun (for when I know the end is nigh)
Note: Stop shooting people. The black dude said it calls them.
Scene When the Black Dude (whose name has escaped me) Does Target Practice-
Husband: I thought he said not to shoot. He really beat himself up about that, what’s he doing?
Me: Working out his aggression.
Husband: This is a bad idea.
Me: He’s looking for his wife.
Husband: Maybe he wants to move on.
Me: Oh, there she is. (Aside) If the Zombie Apocalypse comes, and I get bitten, you better shoot me in the freaking head. That is no way to live. (To the black dude) Shoot her, her brain is fried. She’s eating human flesh.
Husband: But what if they find a cure?
Rick, very stupidly, rides a horse down an empty road toward the city.
Me: All the cars are leaving the city.
Husband: No traffic at least.
Me: If he gets that horse killed…
Husband: That’s an empty threat.
(Action ensues, the nature of which I will not spoil.)
Husband: They’re moving kind of fast.
Me: I guess these are The Skipping Dead.
(Something really crappy happens.)
Me: I do not feel bad for him right now, this is of his own making.
Husband: I feel bad.
Me: That dude is not dead, just shoot him for good measure.
(A gross scene follows.)
Me: That horse was grazing in a pasture, and now look at him.
After the episode-
Husband: What do you suppose the pop culture fascination with Zombies is?
Me: It’s Natural Selection on undead juju.
Husband: There are zombie viruses in nature.
Husband: Yeah, these parasites take over this specific breed of ant’s brains. It’s crazy.
Me: I’m never going to get to sleep tonight. (Long Pause) Lets watch another one.