Let’s jump right in.
- Eugene, Eugene, Eugene. Oh, perverted, awkward Eugene. I mean, I can’t really blame the guy. When up against the wall, you do what you have to do to survive. I’m not sure I would offer much more than hyper-awareness of DANGER and noise-reduction facilitation to a group of zombie survivors. But that trust is broken, man. He’s a bag of zombie bait now to someone like Abraham. Or is he?
- This changes everything! And I’m excited about that. Even though I was down with the trek to DC storyline, I’m super down with everyone’s hopes being dashed against the wall like some rotting zombie head. There was a nice moment between my faves, Glenn and Maggie, when they were in the library. I echoed Maggie’s desire to move forward, mostly because I find Rick annoying most episodes. Moving beyond the church and Rick meant moving toward hope. That brings us to Abraham.
- Bless his heart. Okay, I wasn’t super clear on what was going on in the flashback. I’m still old school. I don’t have the digital box or a primo TV, so live TV tends to be a bit pixelated and dark on ye olde box. Given that blurry image, I figured that the flashback was telling us: he’s an abusive husband, and that’s why his wife and kids shrunk away from him. According to EW.com, he killed a man over canned goods. Okay. That works, too. Having lost hope himself after finding his family mauled by the walkers (why on earth did his wife think she could survive out there on her own if she saw men were willing to kill for food and felt all squishy about that? Oh, honey. You are not fit for survival. However, maybe she thought it was better to die than to live in that world, which brings us back to Abraham.) Eugene saved him by screaming for help. He gave Abraham a mission. Granted, it was under false pretenses. My favorite line of his tonight: I’m stressed and depressed. Poor Abraham. I think he’s going to crack. Awesome. Hand over the popcorn.
- I wish my TV was better so that I could have seen the field full of zombies.
- Sex in the apocalypse. Hmmm. Personally, I don’t know how anyone has a libido given how much duress they’re under on a daily basis. However — from what I can ascertain via a Google search — there are no women in the writers room. Of course the ladies want “some ass,” too! LOLOL, writer dudes. Ahem. If this is the case, there’s bound to be some horrific UTIs going on between how little they bathe, lack of antibiotics, dehydration and getting down on the regular. Can you die from a UTI in the apocalypse? I googled and didn’t find anything definitive*. At any rate, I’d declare my lady parts a no fly zone and would horde a bunch of those cranberry tablets, for sure.
What will happen next? I don’t know. But I’m excited to find out.
