A lot of Sundays I drink a little to prepare for the inevitable soul crushing I can rightfully expect at the hands of the Detroit Lions. I tell you this because by the time the Walking Dead come on at like 2100, I'm usually..."napping."
So we watch it on Monday.
Last night, Rick's son Carl, of the long stupid hair and the one eye and the attitude of a teenager that seems to have survived the end of civilization, because teenagers' attitudes are indestructably bad...well Carl was in the back of a refrigerator truck.
He was back there with Hank Zetterberg. Hank, because he's a Captain and because, yeah, in The Dead, he's Jesus, leapt from the moving refer truck to show young Carl how they could escape a sticky situation.
Carl, because he's a stupid teenager with a really bad teenager's attitude, stayed aboard, while Hank rolled down a Georgia street. He tried to show young punk-ass Carl the way, but Carl--because he's a teenager and only parents of teens can fully understand just how bad teens can be--decided to disregard the Captain's guidance.
You don't...disregard...the...Captain.
Carl was eventually captured by Negan, who is getting a little tiresome and needs to be killed slowly really soon, and now he's in a tougher spot then when Jesus/Hank shared the refer (not reefer) with him.
The Wings need to start paying close attention to their slow footed, strong willed Captain. This may be his swan (or siren) song, so they'd better milk that cow while the cow's still got some of that milk left to give.
He's on a tear and the Wings had better climb on and take full advantage of it.
You don't disregard Jesus, or Hank, or Darryl even when he's Negan's bitch, or anyone whose influence is felt across generations. You just don't.
It's a Live Blog, bitches.
LGRW.
Create an Account
In order to leave a comment, please create an account.