Based on a True TV Series

Note:  Half season break?  What the hell?  I'm not waiting.  I'm finishing this shit now.

It’s yet another beautiful day in the sleepy little town of Woodbury in Georgia.  The first ray of sun pokes though the bedroom window of the Governor’s mistress, Andrea. Andrea has been through a lot of heartache in the last couple of years, but now she’s found a place to call home.  She turns away from the incoming light and covers her head with a pillow, staving off the day for a few more precious moments as she stretches and moans with delight in the luxurious east bedroom of the Governor’s mansion.

“Knock Knock!” says the cheery voice of Andrea’s true love, Governor Philip Blake.  Pushing the door open with his foot, he carries a breakfast tray to his beloved.  Reluctantly, Andrea sits up to welcome her tall, dark and handsome.  He’s wearing a light blue cotton robe and white t-shirt.  As he walks across the room to her, his auburn hair neatly styled back, Andrea cannot believe she ever thought she was a lesbian.  Looking into his beautiful azure eyes, she does not fully appreciate the magic of the moment.  Twelve hours from now, one of those beautiful eyes, along with a good deal of the right side of his brain will be savagely punctured clear to the back of his skull by a 9 inch triangular shard of broken aquarium glass.

Still able to use both his eyes for the time being, the governor pauses in the middle of the room to take in the beauty of his new love.  Andrea is the most beautiful woman he’s ever set eyes upon, even if she is a little butch.  Her tight clean white tank top revealing the hint of hardened nipple underneath, causes Governor Blake to go all stiffy.  Luckily, the breakfast tray obscures the pitched tent.  God, she’s so wonderful, the governor thinks as he subtly delays setting the tray down, trying to think about baseball.  The governor would commit his very soul to protecting this wonderful creature the rest of his days.  Well he would have if she hadn’t been slowly devoured by a pack of zombies later on that night.  But, I get ahead of myself.

“Pour Moi?,” Andrea says in a totally inappropriate coquettish way that doesn’t fit her kind of leathery skin and manly appearance.  Hey – beauty is in the eyes (soon to be eye) of the beholder, I guess.  To anyone watching this scene unfold, nausea would certainly ensue, but to the governor, the sound of her Camel no filter, gravel trash voice only worked to undo all he had accomplished by thinking of baseball.  He could not contain himself.  He threw the tray aside to embrace his one and only, and was rewarded with the sweet sound of her delirious squeals of delight.

Two minutes later, Andrea exhaled with the satisfaction that only comes from that first drag of Camel no filter while the governor furiously worked at the coffee stain on the bedside rug.  “This better come out.  It was Nana’s rug,” He was saying.  But Andrea was miles away.   Too bad about Amy getting all mauled and killed by Zombies and stuff that one time and then me putting a bullet in her brain.  She would have liked it here.  Then Andrea had another irrational thought that made her feel a little guilty.  If Amy were still alive, would the Governor have gone for her instead?  Sure she was 12 years younger than Andrea, but she was definitely way hotter.  Plus, it didn’t matter how the light hit Amy, she always looked female.  Unfortunately, Andrea didn’t get that gene.  I’m a horrible person who should die a violent death.  It should have been me, not Amy, Andrea correctly assessed.  Why did Dale force me to live on?  Anyone watching the situation would have been ok with me blowing to tiny bits at the CDC.  Oh well, God must have something bigger in store for me, Andrea wrongly assumed.  Unless she meant “Becoming food for the undead” was somehow part of God’s grand plan for her.  Because I can tell you, that’s what’s going to happen if I have anything to do with it. 

~~

It’s Midnight in Woodbury.  Well past curfew, but all of the citizens are out on this warm summer evening.  They are gathered around in a circle waiting to hear from the Governor just what the hell is going on.  The impossible has just happened.  There has been an attack on the town.  Some band of armed ruffians from “out there” have managed to get through security and seemed to have pillaged through the town, killing nearly a third of the population in the process.  There are many rumors about why this has happened.  There are arguments.  Blame is being placed.  Those who were tasked with guarding the perimeter are under the most critical scrutiny.  Just as things are about to boil over, the Governor calmly walks to the town square from his home.  At his arm, is his new girlfriend, the peculiar looking Andrea, tears streaming down her wind battered face.  Then the crowd notices the governor has been injured.  This is disconcerting.  The governor is their rock.  Every single person in town (except the Dixon Brothers) thinks of the governor as sort of a cross between Jesus Christ and Dirty Harry. 

Noting their dismay, the governor raises his hands to indicate he’s just fine.  “My good people,” He begins.  So strong is his influence you can actually see the shoulders of everyone in town lower a little as they relax at the soothing sound of his words.  “We have suffered a great blow this night.  We have lost many loved ones and an eye.  But I swear to you, we are secured now and we will promptly avenge the deaths of those so cruelly taken from us.”

Nods of satisfaction and agreement course through those standing around.  Sensing the people were ok with all that and ready to return to their homes for the night, The governor added,  “There is one thing we need to take care of right now, though,”  suddenly a hush fell upon the crowd as each person prayed they were to be held blameless in the intrusion, “I have discovered this was not some random attack.  That would not have made any sense.  We have a traitor in our midst,”  He paused to let the weight of his words settle on those gathered. The governor briefly looked to Andrea for support in what he was about to say.  He ended up turning his head way more than at first he thought he would, because he had forgotten that his one eye was gone, so when he first turned to look at Andrea, he couldn’t see her.  Finally, he saw her.  If anything, his newfound lack of depth perception made her look even more fetching!

Seeing her tearful face solemnly nod for him to continue, The Governor forged ahead with his totally bogus accusation, “My right hand man and most trusted confidant is to blame.”  A sigh of disbelief swept through the townsfolk as they all turned to look at Merle Dixon.  He was more surprised than anyone.  Merle?  A traitor?  This couldn’t be.  Racist?  Sure.  Misogynist?  Most certainly.  One hand fashioned into a long steel blade?  Uh-huh.  But Traiter.  Say it ain’t so, Governor.

~~

Outside the town, Rick and his rescue team were baiting an area with blood from their own wounds to lead walkers to an opening they had created along the town's perimeter.  In time, this would hopefully lead a zombie hoard right smack dab into the middle of Woodbury.  “It seem wrong, use walkers on human,” Michonne protested.  This had been a concern of Rick’s as well, but he’d actually only gotten about 6 hours of sleep the night before and so with the whole trek over to Woodbury from the prison and then the whole rescue thing, frankly, Rick was just too tired to do his own fighting.  In the end, he knew it was probably wrong to send in walkers, but after careful consideration he decided, “Fuck ‘em.”

~~

With the shocking revelation that Merle Dixon was a traitor, The townspeople were slowly closing in on old stabby-hand.  This was exhilarating for Andrea who, tightly gripping The Governor’s hand, was becoming a little bit aroused by the excitement and impending violence of the moment.  As Merle circled in the center of the gang, using his scary hand blade thing to ward off any who would get too close , the noise of the mob became deafening.  And since zombies don’t make any kind of noise until you know they are there, nobody even saw the nasty one that took a big chunk out of Andrea’s shoulder.  Her scream was nearly blotted out by the general crowd noise, but not quite.  The governor turned as he felt her grip tighten.  He counted 3, maybe 4 goons going after the only woman he’d ever loved.  Instinctively, he shook free from her grip and backed off to watch in horror as Andrea writhed in unimaginable agony.  Her flesh coming free in bloody chunks as the now half a dozen zombies went into a feeding frenzy.  The smell of Andrea’s bowels and the squishy sound of her splashing guts was enough to cause a big circle vomit from the crowd.  “I’m so sorry Amy.  Truly I am,”  She gasped at last.

How will Andrea ever get out of this one?  Hard to say.

(to be continued in February)