I’m going to preface this post with a lot of little disclaimers:
1. I do not like horror movies
2. I do not read horror, or even all that much suspense (I threw a Stephen King book across the room during my honeymoon–eons ago–and had major heart palpitations while reading Silence of the Lambs)
3. I do not believe in the Zombi Apoloclypse
4. I cover my eyes when there’s blood and guts on the big or small screen
5. Squeebie sounds freak me out
6. I am not a celebrity groupie and don’t do fan clubs
So why in the world did I ever start watching The Walking Dead? Wendy Lyn Watson.
“If you get past the look and sounds the zombies make, it’s a great story,” she said one day while we were out for our walk.
“But zombies?” I cringed, thinking to myself there was no way in hell I would ever watch the show.
But then I did. After all, I knew Wendy wouldn’t lead me astray. Husband and 15 year old son watched, too, and while I ducked and covered during the gross parts, I found out that Wendy was right. The Waking Dead isn’t really about the zombies. They’re more of a backdrop for the survival story of the, uh, survivors. Sometimes it’s all very Lord of the Flies. Other times it’s very subtly Machiavelian (although not in the way that House of Cards, my other FAVORITE show with the very duplicitous, very awesome Kevin Spacey, is). It’s all very addictive. And yes, gory.
You can’t get too close to any of the characters because, you know, the zombies are after anyone with a pulse. Nobody seems to be safe. But if I’m rooting for anyone to make it through the whole series, it’s my favorite redneck, Daryl Dixon. His character arc is fantastic, and watching him lately as he struggles with the demons of his childhood, including his redneck and diabolical brother Merl, verses the person he’s become–part of the FAMILY of survivors, an integral part of group, someone that people actually care about, just makes me love him even more. That and he named the newborn baby on the show Lil’ Asskicker.
During the last episode, Daryl was off with Merl, has it out with his brother, and then walks off to return to where he belonged. Cut to a zombie attack and Sheriff Rick cornered by several undead. A zombie falls, an arrow through the head, and we see Daryl with his crossbow. My son and I both whooped and hollered and called out Daryl’s name. He was back where he belonged and there to save the day.
So here I proclaim, I’m a fan of Daryl Dixon, and while I won’t officially join his fan club, of which I’m sure there are many, he holds a special place in my heart.
If you know The Walking Dead, tell me, what’s your favorite Daryl moment?