I'm Dale, the annoying old guy who goes on and on about how we should still be civilized during the zombie apocalypse despite how impractical that is or can be.
You're Daryll, the guy from the wrong side of the tracks who loves his crossbow.
I've just been attacked by a Walker, which is trying to eat me. It has just ripped my guts open. I'm bleeding out by the time Daryll puts a knife through the Walker's skull. There's no time to get me back to the house for Herschel to patch me up. And there's no way of knowing if I'm not infected and won't "turn". Rick has wimped out and doesn't have what it takes to put me out of my misery.
Daryll gently takes the gun from Rick, points it at me, and says, "Goodbye, brother". I push my forehead against the gun and await sweet oblivion.
Fade to black.
Yes, I still have my cold and still feel crappy. In the zombie apocalypse, I'd probably have been put down by now, which would be fine by me. I have slept the day away and look forward to more. (I'd just be holding up everybody else.)
Unless Daryll's reading this.
See you tomorrow.
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