I'm not a writer. I just gave birth to this puppy tonight. So, this happened. And I had to make an account for this so…here you go! Um, I guess I'm supposed to say that I don't own The Walking Dead, even though I find that pointless.

I sat at the quarry with my sketch pad and the mechanical pencil that was the best thing I could find in Dale's RV. I sat with my left leg stretched out and my right foot under my left leg. I was almost finished drawing the goose that was resting on the water when I heard a rustling in the trees and foliage behind me. "Good God, Lemon!" was the first thing out of my mouth. The second thing was, "I miss television." Then I started to freak out. I had never actually seen a walker, but that didn't mean I wasn't completely terrified of them. I scrambled up and started looking for a weapon. I wasn't going to lose my only pencil, and the only other option was a rock about the size of an orange. I grabbed it and stood in a faux karate stance. As soon as a body out of the leaves, I chucked the orange-size rock at its head. It went down like King Kong for the Empire State Building. Man, I miss TV.

"Oh God, Daryl! I'm so sorry!"

I ran to the crossbow wielding redneck's side and knelt down. He had a gash on his forehead that was bleeding profusely. "Oh Daryl. Oh dear. Oh God." I just kept spouting out phrases like that.

"Jeezus. I wasn't doing nothing."

"I know! I thought you were a walker! Here, let me help."

"Get away from me!" He pushed me away and jumped up. He grabbed his crossbow from the ground and pushed his way back through the trees. I sat that with a stunned look on my face. I turned to see Carol walking up to me. "What just happened?" she asked me.

"I…just beaned Daryl in the head with a rock." I just sat there. For some reason I was just really confused about the whole situation.

"Well, where did he go?"

"I guess he went back to camp."

"Come on. I'll get you some gauze and you can take it to him."

I shook my head. "I don't think he wants my help."

"I think you should try." She gave me this mother look.

"Eh. Don't mother look me Carol. I'm…feeling..guilt..ARG! Ok! Fine." I pretend-crossed my arms over my chest and pouted.

Carol and I walked back up to camp and she dug in the RV for some medical supplies. She shoved them in my hands and revamped her mother look at me. I narrowed my eyes and turned around the face the Dixons tent in a huff.

I walked up to the tent and knocked on the fabric. I said, "Knock knock, because actually knocking doesn't make much sound."

"Whut the hell are you doin over here?" Sounded an angry voice behind me. I spun around and faced the younger Dixon.

"I have some gauze and some rubbing alcohol for your head. I wanted to-"

"I don't need your help." He looked very angry and was all squinting and just very angry looking.

"Look, if you don't let me help you I'm just going to worry about it. And I'll probably stare at you a lot and I'll talk to you about it…frequently and-."

"Ok, Fine! Jeezus!" He looked at me. Sorry, he squinted at me, cause he does that a lot, and walked around me into his tent. I followed him in and kneeled in front of him where he sat on his cot. I poured some alcohol on one piece of gauze and looked at him. "This might sting." He looked at me like I was an idiot. "You mean it might sting worse than being hit in the head with a rock?"

I glanced at him and nodded with approval. "That was a solid burn, but anyway." I pressed the gauze to his forehead and cleaned the dried blood off. "So, how are the…squirrels?"

"Let's not talk."

"Okiedokie." I dried his forehead and smoothed a band aid over the small cut.

"There we go. All better." I got up and awkwardly curtsied. "I don't know why I just did that." I started to walk out of his tent.

"Thanks. Even though it was your fault."

I smirked with my back still to him.

"You're welcome."

I am watching 30 Rock right now, so that's were "Good God, Lemon." came from.