The Waking Dead

I was probably ill-advised to watch three episodes of "The Walking Dead" after getting home from a load out last night. I had missed parts of episodes three and four, and had not yet seen number five. Since we finished at 11PM, I thought "Some wine, crackers, and cheese, and zombies. How could it get any better?" Idjit. So there I am at shortly after midnight, watching again as Shane shoots Otis. As I told my friend Jacob, there was a logic there I could follow. The only thing Shane really cares about is Lori and Carl, and (sort of) Rick; everyone else is disposable. Doesn't alter the fact that Shane is a dick... Anyway, the story sort of carried over into Dreamland. There I am, in some non-survivors pre-Zombiepocalypse fortified home; apparently Bill Gates isn't the only one. Trust me to find a home built of Oak panels over solid concrete with 1 1/2 inch thick bulletproof plexiglass windows, and slick ceramic tiling on the roof in a dream about zombies. Needless to say, with this nice secure base I need roomies; I picked two women (who looked like no one I know, thanks for asking), an old guy, my brother, three unidentified friends... and every cat the Crandall clan has ever owned. All of them about one year old. Somehow I had also "friended" a young tigress and her two cubs. They lived in the enclosed sunroom of course. Apparently my foray into the closest military camp area, trying to get them to come help by drawing a zombie horde towards them was not enough adventure. I went back to my little castle, and set off the "Zombie Whistle" to draw some in so I could shoot them. Nice guy. There I am, zombies pounding pointlessly on the glass and high walls, when I wake up. To the sound of dull pounding outside my room. Oh-oh.... turns out my neighbor is having some work done on his house. Still, I woke up thinking "I'm not prepared! I need a crossbow still!"