I'm a fan of holidays special and The Walking Dead (And Tom Petty) and what holiday is more about zombies than Easter. Enjoy more of my warped sense of humor. Its going to be a double shot, thought I'd publish the first bit on Good Friday, the actual Easter part will be a little late.
Happy Easter Everybody – the deranged Delta9,
Disclaimer: No one, living or dead, belongs to me. The title and part of the description is from Tom Petty's song Zombie Zoo.
And this is obviously pure crack, no need to tell me, you can't keep walkers though there was a good amount of zombie keeping in the comics (never ended well though)
It was ironic really. It was so painfully ironic. Shane had hated how they had been keeping the walkers. Now he was a new addition to their herd.
Rick watched his dead best friend shamble into the corral with the other walkers. Compared to the other ones, Shane took a lot less time to lead over. Despite his current state, his gait was still lengthy and he still strode as if he had a purpose.
He walked over a patch of dirt that had been upturned by the Greene's dead neighbor, Lou Bush.
Seeing her work had been disturbed, Lou dragged herself over to her dirt patch and began to re-rake the dirt with her fingers. The problem was that Shane had stopped and he was standing in the way of her odd gardening.
Like any other obstacle, a walker encountered, Lou tried to push him out of the way with a discombobulated shove. Instead of just moving along in response, Shane's head snapped to her. His back was turned to Rick so he couldn't see what he was doing, he could see that Lou almost looked confused. She got to her feet, her stance
That's odd. The walkers normally didn't have much to do with each other. They'd eat around each other and never even fight over food. It was the living that they were preoccupied with.
"Rick, hey Rick," someone called behind him, breaking his attention on that little scuffle and the walkers as well, they looked over as if their names were Rick too.
That was more like it.
"Rick, get the gate open. Look who we found."
Glenn and Maggie came up behind him with Randall in tow at the end of rope, which allowed him to have a five meter radius around Glenn that he was fully taking advantage of. Their dead prisoner walked circles around Glenn, making him spin around to untangle himself from the rope countless times.
"Ruggghh, gggaaarr" Randall said in what they classified as walker talk.
Maggie and Rick played the part of carrots, baiting Randall in to the corral. He followed them in a very zigzag fashion. The handle of Glenn's machete that had failed to put him down went back and forth like a metronome as his head wobbled on his broken neck.
Shane, Lou, Doug and the one in coveralls they had named Bubba, were on their way over.
When Glenn cut the rope once they got one quarter in. Rick and Maggie raced back and hopped the fence like it was an Olympic sport.
One to three was safe enough to be around but they didn't want to get outnumbered in case they turned
Walkers were wild animals.
Randall followed them back to the walker-proof fence and grinded against it all the while growling and groaning. Much like he had been when he was alive, he was very chatty.
"We should drag that sick heifer over soon, they're getting hungry," said Glenn.
One of the first things they had figured out about the walkers was they were less aggressive and less inclined to take a bite out of one of their keepers.
"Fourteen, three, nine," Glenn goofed up Maggie's head count.
She punched him in the arm and gave up. She did notice that one was missing.
"Where's my step-mom?"
Annette was in the kitchen. Patricia kept one eye on her at all times while chopping up apples for the fruit salad. There was no telling what the dead country wife might do.
The walkers normally stayed outside with the exception of the littlest one since she could be picked up when she started acting up.
Beth had led her up to the house this morning, saying her mom wanted to her old house.
Annette grabbed a bottle of white vinegar off the counter. The sash on her dress caught on the drawer handle and it pulled open when she pulled away. The sound of it caught her attention, unable to concentrate on more than one thing, she dropped the bottle of vinegar. Her hand rummaged around, flipping utensils out left and right. She grabbed on to a potato masher and hit it clumsily against an empty bowl.
When the bowl broke, Annette grabbed the glass pieces and brought them over to Patricia, who backed away when she got near. Annette dumped the glass bits in with her apple bits on the cutting board. To make matters worse she began to toss all the bits together.
"I think she's trying to cook," Beth theorized.
"Stop her."
Beth grabbed her and turned her attention to the fridge.
"Look mom, look at the pictures," she pointed at the photographs arranged there,
Annette pawed them, knocking a couple off.
" Remember when you hid real eggs on Easter and me and Maggie didn't find them all and our living room started smelling like rotten eggs," Beth told a anecdote linked to a picture of very young Beth with a basket of eggs and a very unenthused nose pierced Maggie rolling her eyes in the background.
Annette tilted her head, hissing softly in response.
"Sophia, come on," Carol tried to coax her dead daughter out the front door with some dried animal part. "You have to leave the house sometime. "
Sophia stepped out on to the porch, the moment the sun hit her, she bent her head down, cowering back.
"She doesn't like the sun," Daryl said.
With a full stomach, she wasn't so easy to tempt.
"She's fine once she gets out, it's just getting her to leave," said Carol.
No need to tell him that, Daryl had been the one picking her up (or if her mother wasn't around, just dragging her by her hair) and placing her outside when she put up such fusses.
"Maybe the light change irritates her eyes, probably can't adjust as well anymore."
"You think we should give her a hat"
"Do ya one better," Daryl hopped off his seat on the porch railing and went
into the house, pushing past Sophia still
Carol had been joking about the hat. It wasn't a hat he came back with. Daryl grabbed her and pulled her head back. It was a pair of sunglasses.
She barred her teeth and snarled a bunch of threats in walker talk.
"Watch yer mouth, Miss" he slid the sunglasses over her clouded eyes.
Putting sunglasses on a walker was the equivalent of putting a plastic cone on a dog. Sophia tossed her head back and forth rabidly, trying to shake them off. She scratched at the lenses, otherwise though
"Sophia," Carol held the meat out to her.
The walker child forgot about the sunglasses, walked right out on to the porch, over to her mother and snatched the treat out her hands with snapping teeth that judging from the way Carol jerked back, her fingers almost became a part of Sophia's snack.
Daryl almost snapped at her but stomached it. Carol should know by now that she couldn't hand feed the girl. She still treated her too much like a living person. Oh well that's why he was here.
Sophia gobbled down the meat and wandered all the way off the porch. The sunglasses were a definite hit.
They stood side by side on the porch and fondly watched her explore the yard.
"Is she wearing my sunglasses?" asked Andrea, coming up the walkway.
"If you left your sunglasses on a end table inside then yes, " answered Daryl.
The clench of her jaw said that Sophia was wearing her sunglasses.
"They found Randall, his fingernails need to be cut."
After what had happened to Dale, all walkers had their fingernails clipped down to nothing. It was a painful process for the living, the walkers put up a hell of a fight.
At least they only had to do it once since they wouldn't grow back.
" "kay, they all at the barn" Daryl set off before Andrea nodded, where else would they be with a walker.
Andrea started up a conversation with Carol.
Sophia wandered farther than she ever had, much farther then her mom or Andrea anticipated she'd go and they ended up losing track of her.