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Posted on March 31, 2014

Walking Dead Writers Room After the Finale

Writer A: Okay, so we really painted ourselves in a corner with last night's ep, huh? How are we going to get them out of our locomotive pickle?

Writer B: Actually, we herded them into a train car. Maybe that phrase will replace the paint idiom in our pop culture vernacular.

Writer C: What do you mean?

Writer B: Well, back when I was writing for Happy Days, it happened. We created jump the shark. That really caught on. Maybe our word play legacy is people referring to an impossible situation with no feasible way out as "herded into a train car." That could totally become a thing.

Writer A: That is not a thing. We did not create a thing.

Writer B: Not up to you to decide. It's out of our hands. Humanity and its crowd sourcing wisdom will determine if we have hatched a thing or not.

Writer C: Could we stop bickering? We need to get Glenn and Maggie out of there?

Writer D: Enough with those two. We have to think of the whole group. Why must you be so fixated on them?

Writer C: 'Cause they're keeping our shippers happy. We have to get them out or at least their own train car.

Writer E: So if we went with multiple train cars, could we toss in a conductor or ticket puncher? Really give it that authentic vibe.

Writer B: What? How would that even work? Unless you're saying their zombies. Can you picture that? Darryl brawling with one of those guys with their little train caps on. I have a train conductor's uniform the wardrobe department gave me when I worked on Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman. Would you like me to bring it in for inspiration?

Writer A, C, D, and E: No!

Writer A: Okay, getting back to Rick and his crew. What's our solution?

Writer C: Maybe Rick taped some C-4 to himself in case things went south. We did show him burying guns so the viewer knows he's prepared for anything.

Writer A: No can do. Borders too much on Macgyver. (stares down Writer B) and if you namedrop again how you did three seasons with Mr. Richard Dead Anderson, I will take this ping pong ball paddle and thrash you to within an inch of your life.

Writer B (mumbles): Overbearing much.

Writer E: Is it C-4? For some reason I was thinking C-3.

Intern Z (hunkered over laptop): Nope. Wikipedia says C-4.

Writer A (rolls his eyes and slams down the ping pong ball paddle): Enough! Don't make me cancel the snack surprise craft services is bringing us at eleven.

Writer B: Is it humus? I adore that stuff. Use to have it all the time on Gimme a Break. Nell Carter was a big fan of all things Mediterranean.

Writer A (glowers at Writer B) : Give me something, anything.

Writer E: What if Rick challenges Gareth to something?

Writer A: Like a duel? Why? Gareth has the upper hand. How are you thinking that would even work?

Writer E: Ping Pong. Rick could challenge him to a game of it. Paddle tennis is really trending now.

Writer A: What's in it for Gareth and his people? Rick isn't bringing anything to the table.

Writer B: Are you saying if he brought his own paddle, that it would make sense? Maybe Rick has one taped to his stomach. He could've gotten it from the prison. Maybe he even named it. Like Lucille or something?

Writer A: Not Lucille. That name is verboten. At least until Season 7.

Writer E: Getting back to this ping pong thing, maybe it's doable. Maybe Rick appeals to their sense of fair play. Aren't cannibals supposed to be honorable and operate by some sort of code?

Writer B: You're confusing them with Knights of the Round Table. I'm always doing that.

Writer A: No ping pong. Stop it! We need to be realistic here.

Writer E (leans over to whisper to Writer B): Says the guy who wrote a bathroom brawl that didn't alert anyone in the house to Rick's presence. And why was that guy on the can with his pants on, huh?

Writer B: Could they find a bazooka?

Writer A: Just lying around?

Writer B: Hey, it could happen.

Writer C: We've established the train car is empty except for Rick and his crew, right?

Writer A: Yes.

Writer B: You sure? It was pretty dark in there. Maybe there's a bazooka propped up in the corner.

Writer A (a vein is bulging on his forehead): There is no bazooka.

Writer C: Could maybe Tyreese and Carol come in guns blazin'?

Writer E: Toting Baby Judith along with them? C'mon. Talk about child endangerment.

Writer B: Maybe they could walk up to the gate, hold up Judith in a cute new onesie they just scavenged, and Gareth's people will have a change of heart.

Writer A (picks up his phone and dials)

Writer B: What are you doing?

Writer A: Canceling our snack. You idiots don't deserve it.

Writer B: It was humus, wasn't it? (mutters to himself) Knew I should've signed on to that Saved By the Bell reboot FX was offering. They wouldn't dangle humus and not deliver.


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