I can't go on this long without new Walking Dead. Here is a story I think they threw in the trashcan that somehow ended up in my brain in a crazy series of events, I bet:
As Shane and the rest of his gang took out the barn folks one by one, Hershel turned into a frozen, disbelieving stone of a man. BAM! There went his neighbor's daughter. KAPLOW! There went his son's Boy Scout packmaster. And then out came Annette, or what used to be Annette, or at least a very, very sick version of Annette. Even with her yellowed, furious eyes and her missing cheek skin, Hershel's wife was still beautiful. Her auburn hair blew in the light breeze. Suddenly, her brain blew into the light breeze too. BANG!
The gunshot rang in Hershel's ears for what felt like years. He fell to his knees (one of them stiff from the war) from his crouched position, covering his eyes with his hands in an effort to stop seeing what he couldn't help seeing over and over again.
The last time he'd seen Annette healthy was just three days into this nightmare. She was watching a lot of tv news at the time, her interest piqued by the high incidence of cannibalistic accounts coming from rural areas. Newnan, GA was plenty spread-out, but it wasn't as rural as the places the news talked about. Annette couldn't stop postulating to Hershel: maybe the economy truly had gotten that bad, or maybe there was a new, advanced bacteria that scientists hadn't discovered yet that caused people to do this. Hershel discouraged his wife from these thoughts. Without her focusing on the family, who would keep everyone in line? She was the head of the house.
An egg timer went off and Annette left the living room to check on her pie. Hershel had been smelling sour cherry filling all afternoon, and he couldn't wait to dig in. It took all his strength not to sneak a bite of pie before it had properly cooled.
After a few minutes had passed and Annette hadn't returned yet, Hershel called out. "Honey, your gloom and doom news show is back," he ventured cheekily, knowing it would annoy her. When she still didn't return to the living room, he noticed a gurgling noise coming from the kitchen. "Honey?" Hershel called again. There was a clang, but still no reply.
Knowing that Annette would never make him get up from the couch on his bad knee, Hershel reached for his cane. He struggled up and hobbled to the kitchen as fast as he could. On his way, the gurgling got louder and Hershel could now hear weak grunts coming from the kitchen as well. He glanced down at his cane and tightened his grip.
As Hershel came upon the doorway to the kitchen, he saw two things: first, the pie was now face-up on the floor. Second, Annette was trying her hardest to remove her face from a horribly disfigured man's snarling mouth. The man, if that's what it was, was reaching in through the open window where the pie had been cooling. His arms seemed glued to Annette's skin and hair - he wouldn't let go, even as she flailed wildly. The man's mouth was on top of Annette's, almost as though they'd been in flagrante delicto when Hershel stepped in. He was gnawing on her cheek.
Hershel raised his cane and prepared to strike the intruder, but since the man was only reaching inside, the rest of his body was still out in the backyard. If Hershel struck anything, it would be Annette, who was weeping silently. The man had taken out most of her throat and mouth, which Hershel realized had kept her from screaming. Suddenly Annette stopped struggling. She slumped where she stood, bent over the counter towards the window. The man, one of those cannibals Annette had been hearing about, paused his attack and looked right at Hershel. Panicked and terrified, Hershel scooped up the pie from the floor. He threw the pie in the man's face.
Temporarily, at least, it worked.
The end??????
Thanks guys!
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