So last night was the premiere of the much-anticipated Walking Dead, which began with a law enforcement official shooting a little zombie girl holding a stuffed bunny*.
Will: They don't waste any time, do they?
Me: She was a zombie, it's what you do.
I will have to turn in my Nerd Card when I admit that I haven't read the graphic novel. Not by choice, it's just that usually when I remember things I want to buy/read/see I am nowhere near a place to buy/read/see them. When I heard that Walking Dead was going to be made into a series I decided I wouldn't read the source material, but go back afterwards and see if there was anything I missed. I'm a completist that way. (You can give me my Nerd Card back now.)
Watching disaster movies (which while they skew horror, you could argue that they're easily disaster movies as well) always make me wonder how I'd react in the same scenario. I realized that while Will and I had discussed our wishes for what happens to us after we die or have to go on life support (Will has said he wants the plug pulled as soon as his pants go out of fashion), but we hadn't discussed what happens after we become undead.
I told Will that I would be upset if he didn't shoot me when I became a zombie. Unless I was a hot zombie, because then I'd want him to first take photo to show everyone what a hot zombie I made. Then he could shoot me. Never turn down a decent photo op.
But if we didn't end up zombies, what then?
But it's moments like these that I am reminded of a not-so-long-ago project of mine called the Post-Apocalyptic Workout, in which I was documenting my prep work for the Zombie Apocalypse.
Everyone always imagines themselves the hero but let's face it, most of us aren't. Most of us are just the hangers-on looking for someone to tell us what to do and then arguing when they tell us what we don't want to hear. Like how I shouldn't go back for me dog.
This is why I'm going to die during the Zombie Apocalypse: I'm going back for my dog.
Will and I have a joke that's not really a joke but we say it in that ha-ha way which means this is serious but we're going to pretend it's not that we can both walk, so saving Daisy is our number one priority in any situation. Daisy is not Lassie. She will not pull you out of the well and call you an ambulance and mix you a drink at the end of a long day.
No, Daisy is the con artist of dogs, making you feel like you are the most important thing in her world at any given time. Daisy hates cats and dogs and squirrels, but Daisy does one thing better than any other animal on the planet, and that is that she LOVES YOU AND ONLY YOU.
In our ragtag group of survivors, when people would be going on about their parents and their kids and their wounded (listen, if zombies movies have taught me anything, it's that you gotta shoot the wounded), I will wave that all off and say dasvidaniya, suckers I'm not leaving my dog who won't protect us from the zombies and in fact probably draw the zombies to us because her penchant for butt chewing sounds like Darth Vader attached to a Hoover vaccum so you'd better go on without us.
In summation: The Walking Dead is awesome and when my inevitable zombiefying happens in the apocalypse**, please do me a favor and take me down in one shot.
*The only moment of cringe-worthiness for me was when Mr. Law Enforcement Official co-opted a horse to ride into the city. I knew it wasn't going to end well. And it didn't. (Although you could argue that it ended well for the zombies.)
You asshole! I screamed at the TV while Will reminded me that it wasn't a real horse.
**This means IF I AM ACTUALLY A ZOMBIE. Not if I tell you I feel like a zombie or if I'm just sleepy. I have to be eating actual human*** brains.
***Clarified because I have been know to eat non-human brains.