Sunday, January 15, 2012
Guest Blogger "Zombie Sophia"
I'm a big fan of the zombie apocalypse comic book series The Walking Dead, as well as the companion TV series seen on AMC. I'm also a big user of Twitter and a fan of several role playing accounts that appear there. These are accounts based on fictional characters in which the users write tweets in the mindset of that particular character.
After the TV series' mid-season finale featured the death and zombie-fication of the young girl character Sophia, I took it upon myself to create my own role playing account as Sophia in her zombie form, saying many humorous and sometimes slightly profane things. Thus was born "Zombie Sophia." It's been very successful, garnering over 475 followers (by comparison, my account as myself has a mere 170). A few of my followers keep asking how Sophia came to be a zombie, an event which has not yet been seen on the TV series. This post is my attempt to give an account of what happened to Sophia to turn her into America's most loved "walker." Take it away, Sophia!
Everybody wants to know what happened to me, how I became a walker. To you we're zombies, but where I come from, we're walkers. As for how it happened, I wish I knew myself.
I certainly remember most of what lead up to that moment. I certainly remember that herd of walkers that seemed to come out of nowhere, when we were stranded on that crowded road. I remember how we all panicked and got down underneath the abandoned cars in the hopes that those stupid walkers wouldn't find us. It worked at first. We were almost in the clear. Then I did something stupid.
I started to get out a little too soon. It seemed that they had all left, so I started to get out from underneath the car. Big mistake. That's when one of the scariest, ugliest walkers I've ever seen just happened to be right there. I screamed. I ran. He ran right after me. Rick followed as fast as he could to save me, and was doing a good job of it, but things took a turn for the worse.
He had me hide under a big thicket of brush while he drew away the walker's attention. I couldn't see anything from where I was hiding, but it got real quiet after a few minutes. Everything seemed OK, safe. That's when I made an even bigger mistake--one that cost me my life.
I stepped out from underneath the brush, looked both ways as if I were crossing the street, and looked for Rick. That's when I felt something grab me by my left shoulder.
That's the last I remember before I died. And before I came back.
The next thing I knew, I felt real different. Empty. Hungry. Then I felt this metal thing around my neck, and saw some big guy dragging me along with him. I was only thinking two things at that moment; I wanted that thing off of my neck--and I wanted to tear into that man as hard as I could--and eat.
Before I knew it, I was shoved in this barn with others like me. Those I used to run from, scream at, be terrified by. Now, I'm one of them. Now, I just walk, feast on the scraps of chicken I can wrestle from the other walkers. Oh, and I tweet.
Considering I'm living in a zombie apocalype, this barn has pretty good wifi.
It may not seem like I think like humans, but I do, much more so than the others, I can tell you that. I know what goes on, and I talk about it. Sometimes I say things that you shouldn't hear from a 12-year-old girl's mouth. But considering what I've been through, I say screw it. I've earned it to drop an F-bomb or double entendre here and there. You're welcome to follow me at Twitter here or Facebook here.
But be forwarned: I might follow you back.