Although The Walking Dead is about to end its 6th season, and I've been hearing nothing but raves about it from friends, I hadn't seen a single episode until this past Saturday. It's true. I enjoy stories about ghosts. I like some stuff about vampires. Zombies, though, meh. I really don't see the attraction to things that are dead and decaying. At least most vampires are sexy and alluring. And ghosts can be fun (insert plug for my Ghost of Granny Apples mystery series here).
Foul. Ugly. Incoherent. Pieces missing or falling off.
Oh yeah, I can totally picture a zombie hunk doing a bump and grind in the next Magic Mike movie! NOT!
Still, I wanted to see what all the hullabaloo was about. So Saturday afternoon after a very pleasant lunch with friends, I sat down in front of the TV, called up Netflix, and started with episode 1, season 1.
First thing I see is Andrew Lincoln in a sheriff's outfit. I loved Lincoln in the movie Love Actually, so I was off to a good start. Next I see dead bodies and Lincoln, playing Rick Grimes, shoot a girl zombie in the head. Okay... not totally unexpected.
By the end of the episode, I was hiding my eyes and fighting back my lunch as both the living and the dead were butchered with glorious graphic gore and squishy sound.
I swore I'd never watch another ...
Later that evening, after some chores and writing, I sat down in front of the TV to watch something fun. Before I knew it, I was starting up episode 2 of The Walking Dead. It was like the remote had a mind of its own. Forces beyond my control were pushing me closer to the zombies. I was helpless. A lamb to the slaughter.
By 1 am - yes, 1 am - I had watched the entire season 1 of the show. At some point, I had a quick bite of dinner and was truly thankful that I eat mostly vegan, because The Walking Dead will make a vegetarian/vegan out of anyone.
I swore that on Sunday I would NOT watch the damn show. I even did a pinkie swear with myself. There would be NO ZOMBIES on Sunday. As usual, I had coffee and breakfast while watching Face The Nation. After, I went to my computer to write. It was a normal Sunday in my world.
"Sue Ann," the zombies called from the living room.
"Sue Ann, we're right here, waiting for you."
"Just pick up the clicker. You know you want to."
Yes, I know that zombies don't talk, but they did to me. If I'm lying, I'm dying... (By the way, that's just a figure of speech. Don't go getting all excited and put a bullet in my brain just yet.)
I held firm and kept plugging away at my manuscript for the 11th book in my Odelia Grey series, due in just a few weeks. I had work to do, and some laundry.
|What's really disturbing is this looks like B!|
"Sue Ann," I heard again in raspy zombie grunts. "Come watch us or we'll eat your cat."
Being somewhat of a zombie novice, I wasn't sure if that meant B would become a zombie too. Would I be sharing my home and bed with a zombie cat?
Hours later, I finally tore myself away from the TV, just 2 episodes away from the end of season 2. B was safe and sound, snoring next to me on the couch, without a clue about how close she'd come to becoming undead herself.
So far this week, I've managed to stave off my craving for the show. B's not in danger though, because I promised the zombies a date this weekend.
I hope that damn cat knows the sacrifices I'm making for her.