The Walking Dead Meet The Lounging Nosy
I’m lying in bed, rewatching a popular TV show about the zombie apocalypse involving a small-town sheriff in the state of Georgia. My husband is normally squeamish and not into “horror” in any form, but he has become bored in the other room and come to the bed to pester me. Side note: I am of Spanish origin and he is a Native Canadian.
Husband: “What’s this show?”
Me: “[Show]. I’m rewatching it from the beginning. It’s only a few episodes in. Want a recap on how it starts and you can watch with me?”
Husband: “Eeeeugh, no, thanks. Not interested.”
Me: “Okay.” *Pauses the show* “Want me to change it?”
Husband: “No, that’s fine. I’ll just play on my phone.”
Fifteen minutes later:
Husband: “So, there are other people out there? They want the guns, but they belong to the sheriff guy? Why would he just leave them there?”
Me: “Oh, you’ll love this next part, but let me fill you in first.”
Husband: “No, no, no. I don’t wanna know. Forget I asked.” *Rolls over*
I look at our mirror mounted on the dresser a bit later and notice that he has strategically placed his head to see the TV, but from my angle, it looks like he’s scrolling on his phone
Husband: “Oh, my God, they were acting so tough, but they had their ab-way-lah in there? Sheriff guy was right! What if they had shot them all?! The poor ab-way-lahs! They’d be alone!”
Me: “The what?! You mean abuelas?”
Husband: “You know what I mean. I can’t make the Spanish noises. The R comes out la-la-la-la.”
Me: “You mean rrrrrrrrrr.” *Rolling my tongue*
Husband: “Shush! I’m watching the sheriff man! Who is that guy? Where are they? How did they get into a city? Where’re the rest of them? Aren’t there some kids? Wasn’t the sheriff man in the hospital?”
Me: “Fill you in?”
Husband: “Fill me in.”