"Eww! Do you have to play with the intestines like that?"Carol asked.
"Yeah." I said. I had been making "pictures" with the intestines of the deer we were gutting for a good 10 minutes while Carol looked on. I was tryin' to make a self portrait. So far it looked more like a pile of intestines than my face. Or maybe it was spot on since my face looks about as gross as a pile of deer guts. I pondered this while Carol said something about how I should be focusing on the task at hand.
Carol had been helping me gut my kills for a month and yet the woman still wasn't completely used to it. I didn't get it. She said it was because she liked me but I wasn't buyin' that crap. She had to have some other motive. Maybe she wanted to learn to be less of a little kid when it came to gross things. Get used to it. After all we were living in a gut filled world. And then there were the notes. She left them everywhere. In my lunch,on my bike,in my cell,the guard tower-basically anywhere I was likely to be. Todays had been found taped to the toilet in my cell. It read:
Hey Daryl! Hope you have a great day! When you get back come and pick me up for our date. I won't be mad if you are all dirty. In fact, I'll be happy! (Because then I can clean you up.(wink wink.) It will be a great.) Love your "girlfriend",
Carol
I decided to write a note of my own.
Woman-I think great days died with the first walker. As for our so called date, I regret to inform you that I won't be able to pick you up as Maggie said I can't come inside until I'm mostly blood free. Knowing me that will be a while. The meat would rot. And it ain't a date. -Daryl D. Dixon the first P.S. I'm a big boy and I can clean myself up. I have been doing so for years.
She had promptly responded with a note stuck to my plate at lunch.
Dear Daryl D. Dixon the First,
What does the "D" stand for?
I quickly scrawled a message on the back and slid it under her bread. Rick gave me a strange look. I had seriously considered writing a dirty word but decided against it. My mama raised me to be a gentleman. Sometimes.
"Darwin? That not seriously your name is it? You're kidding." she looked amused but unsure.
"Yeah I'm kiddin'" I said. Rick looked more confused than a Dixon in math class. "Carol wanted to know what my middle name was." I explained.
"So if its not Darwin what is it?" he asked.
"Yeah Pookie, what is it?" Carol asked.
"I give you hint," she leaned forward. "it starts with D."
"I already knew that!" she said, clearly frustrated.
"I know. Here's a better clue. Lions." Her expression was so funny I actually laughed out loud.
"Lions? What do lions have to do with-with anything?" she asked.
"Just think about it. I'm going hunting. Bye." I got up and walked out leaving behind a very confused Carol.
Now I was putting the finishing touch on my intestine portrait. Just a little to the left...I thought.
"Is it David?" she asked suddenly. I gazed upon my work with pride.
"Ain't it great?" I asked her. She gave it a disapproving look.
"No."
"Carol! I'm shocked at you! Criticizing a poor little boy's beautiful art!" I said.
"I thought you were a big boy who could clean himself up! And you never told me if David was right." She said with her hands on her hips. I smiled.
"Nope. My name ain't David."
"Dane?" I shook my head.
"Daxton?"
"Nuh uh."
"Dalton?Damian?Dean? Declan? Darius?" She guessed.
"Nope,wrong,no, no,and nope." I responded.
"Will you tell me if I guess it?" she looked at me with hopeful eyes.
"Yes, Woman, I'll tell ya if ya guess it."
"Can I have another hint?"
"It has vowels in it." I said. She playfully punched me in the arm.
"Stop."
"You first."