Y’all, it is time I make a confession.
I hope you’re sittin down.
I’ve told you, I’m not a horror fan.
I’ve told you, I’m a sissypants about gore.
I’ve told you, I like it here under my rock.
I JUST had a lil chat with Marian about the nice dry zombies of her youth.
Which is why…I cannot explain…How I have become a fan of The Walking Dead.
I didn’t turn it on. I came out one Saturday with my coffee and my lappy and Sassy was watchin it. “Zombies, Sass? Really?”
“Mama, it’s so good.”
I typed and read and typed and read and LOL Cats and next thing you know, I was riveted. “What happened?”
“Why’s he doin that?”
“Why he’s got a fever?”
“OMG KILL IT! KILL IT!”
A few episodes in, and I was hooked.
I ran in and shouted at The Mister, “This show is AWFUL! You’ll love it!”
He said, “Mmm,” in his Unimpressed-Mamaw tone.
Then I hurried back so as not to miss anything.
Hours later, The Mister came into the living room and sat down with his coffee and his laptop and I was all, “OMG THIS SHOW IS HORRIFYING! SCARIEST SHIT I’VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE!”
He got sucked in, too.
Next thing we knew, it was 3am and nobody wanted to take the damned dog out because dark and scary.
Then the boy one came over last weekend, and I said to him, “We’re going to watch our show now. I’m sorry, but you’ll get sucked in, too.”
He shrugged his Millennials-Are-Never-Impressed-Shrug.
And the next thing we knew, it was 2am and he said, “Oh man, I’m gonna regret this, but yeah, let’s watch another episode.”
The suspense is wretched. I mean, remember when you were a kid and the scary stuff was mostly suspense? They do that really well.
But with gore. Oh the gore. So much eww.
So I look at my drapes a lot, and hide my face in the blanket, and sometimes, from within the blanket, I yell at the people, “I told you not to go in there! I can tell by the squishing that you’re good as dead now!”
This is when I realized, I had, in fact, become my mother.
I had suspected the metamorphosis was in its beginning stages already. There had been many signs. Most importantly, that day I wrapped my afghan about me and took my dog out into the yard, I passed a mirror and I thought, omg the transformation is nearly complete.
But during The Walking Dead, I scream at the people in the tv as though they can hear me. I know they can’t hear me, but there I am, just like my mother, “Girl, don’t you go in there!” and “Jesus Fucking Christ, Lori! Pick up a gun! Don’t nobody need clean laundry right now!”
Do you watch The Walking Dead? Do you scream at the television? Are you turning into your parents?