Episode 8, Season 2: “Grotesque”
Father, it’s been waaaay too long since my last confession. I cannot provide you with an adequate recap of the last episode because my mind was consumed with other pressing issues that arose during the summer hiatus, among them a head lice infestation and Blue Apron. I will say that calling this episode “Grotesque” is like calling an episode of Cupcake Wars “Delicious.” It’s like, ADOY, how lazy can you be, AMC?
Nick wakes up in kind of a nice house, zombie apocalypse nice, that is. A lady with a deep voice is getting ready to drive south with a little boy who waits outside. Nick discusses zombie refuges where weirdos like Cecelia can “embrace the dead.” I understand the logic of avoiding walkers rather than actively hunting them down, but sustaining them with live chihuahuas doesn’t seem like a sound policy either. The lady and kid drive off leaving slimy guts-covered Nick to trek across the arid landscape to a singer-songwritery soundtrack.
Only 100 miles to Tijuana! Is Nick on his way to see slutty bitches shooting ping-pong balls out of their vaginas? Or watching donkeys engage in unspeakable acts with—oh, back to the show. Nick has come across a car accident. Then, he has a flashback to pre-zombie days. He thumb wrestles with a pretty thin blonde. No shampoo to be had back then either, because Nick’s hair is as greasy and limp as it is now.
They do some kind of play-acting therapy session wherein she pretends to be Nick’s shitty dad. Embrace. Back to an even dirtier Nick making his way to Tijuana, renowned for its “raucous bars and souvenir shops,” according to Google. He enters an empty house. Good place to camp out. Builds a fire. Swigs some water. So far, I’m missing the zombies. Zero action.
A woman armed with a metal baseball bat takes several swings at Nick and banishes him from said hacienda as her child cowers in a dimly lit corner. Guess that’s HER abandoned house. He’s on the road again. Abandoned cars with a few walkers in them. Nick snatches one zombie’s water bottle. It’s not like she’ll be needing it anymore. Then he snatches her transistor radio from the dash. Naaah, naaah! Give that baaaack! Water, maybe, but electronics a zombie will not part with. A car filled with tough-looking Mexicans pulls up in the distance. They’re scavenging, too. Nick crouches down as they spear skulls, but the static from his new radio goes off at the wrong time. Nick heads for zee hills with the mad Mexes in tow.
He reaches a clearing, all out of breath. Is he safe for now? Nick is hot. He steps on a cactus and hurts his foot. Channeling his American Indian smarts, he busts open a piece of cactus and drinks. A few drops come out. Nick eats said cactus and has a good purge. After puking up a few pounds, bulimic Nick pees and drinks his urine. Does the fun ever start?
It’s cold at night in the desert, so Nick comforts himself with another flashback. Mad Mom is picking him up from an institutional hallway. Mad Mom reports that his dad was in a car accident and died. This is clearly before MM met her Maori warrior Travis.
Back to reality. A vicious cur attacks Nick as if he were a walking piece of filet mignon, or at least a very tough flank steak. Two dogs, to be exact. He saves himself by climbing up onto the rusted pickup he was sleeping against. A horde of zombies come loping across the plains, and the mean dogs think, alright! Smorgasboard. The feral dogs, however, are no match for ravenous walkers, and Nick watches with some satisfaction as they are devoured by the dead. After the canine appetizers, Nick tries to make himself invisible to the dead on the unfortunately creaky old truck. His leg is badly bitten, and on top of that he’s been spotted. Luckily, car honking sounds in the distance, plus the firing of bullets, music by which they love to groove.
|"Think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts..."|
Nick is free to hobble over to the dead dog for a quick snack himself. He blends in with the walkers as he limps his way across the desert. He’s also hallucinating, which is not ideal when you are trying to blend in. The horde hits the highway. Why do these guys travel in packs? A jeep with armed men stops in front of them to pick off some zombies. Why not, there’s no Facebook. Nick kind of stands out, being alive, and all. One stops to reload so he can get some shots in at Nick. The two gunmen are overtaken and eaten.
The remaining gunmen can’t figure Nick out, who in the meantime has collapsed in the middle of the road because man cannot live on emetic cacti and rabid dog flesh alone! Flashback to better days, when Nick was doing drugs with his druggie blonde girlfriend. Looks like heroin, his fave. To add insult to injury back in the present day, a pounding thunderstorm commences as Nick lies in the road. Good news: he’s not thirsty anymore! Bad news: His camo blood and guts are washing off.
Nick…again, and he’s still dirty, and still limping. He’s reached a medium-sized town. Nobody around, of course, but a welcome change of scenery. He drags himself into a pharmacia. Ugh, nothing useful! He ends up in a barber shop, where the female gang leader and her henchies confront him. They chat a bit, and leave. Nick goes to a shitty medical clinic to get his rancid leg looked at. If you think Obama Care is bad, try post-apocalyptic medicine in Mexico! LOL, a little political humor. A “doctor” cleans his wound as Nick winces. “Death is not meant to be feared,” he warns, “But it doesn’t mean it should be pursued.” EXACTLY.
|"Welcome to MexCare! I'm not a real doctor, and I am not actually treating you."|
This town Nick found is a nice place…for a shithole. Taco stands, open-air market, happy barking dogs that aren’t trying to tear you limb from limb. He actually smiles. Did I mention the hipster soundtrack as well?
|Nick is soooo happy to have tacos again. Diarrhea be damned!|