You have picked the option A - MOLOTOV HONDA! We love when the choice is unanimous; So let's dive back into it.
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"Why do the pretty ones always have to be crazy?" Negan shakes his head, scooping up Glenn, ever so gently. The Korean flings his hands out in protest, but he's so very weak, that it doesn't even register to the coach, who softly places him down, his back supported by a tree. As all the puzzle pieces lock into place, the leather-clad badass guffaws at the girl's tenacity.
"What's a party without a few fireworks?" Gertrude chuckles as she searches for a two by four. The only way she could think of for getting this new Molotov-on-wheels across to the poachers without going all kamikaze, was to jam the accelerator with something.
Although Murphy's law played in the back of her head, and multiple reruns of Mythbusters would remind her of the lunacy of this idea ... meh ... what's life without a little risk?
"Find me a thick branch or something!" She pointed to her stubbled hubby.
Merle couldn't help but grasp that low-lying fruit, grabbing at his crotch and flashing his pearly whites. "I've got a thick branch right here for ya, sugar tits!"
With a drastic roll of her eyes, the party girl turns her direction to the younger Dixon. "Please, find a large branch or something to weigh down the accelerator pedal!"
With a curt nod, Double D does as he's asked, whilst Merle gives her a salty pout. The cheeky vixen winks at her wounded man and whispers, "oh boy, I can't wait til we're alone."
This seems to perk up the redneck, who grabs his firearm and settles in front of her. "Well then, let's make sure we both make it 'til then!"
Gertrude blows him a kiss and slides into the car, checking the fuel gauge. "Half-full ... that'll do."
Daryl comes running back with a piece of timber so perfect it must've been a sign they're on the right track. The party girl is about to jam the accelerator when the hillbilly yips, "wait, wait, wait! Yer gonna try and get that car over there without a driver?"
"Yes." She shrugs.
"Not a chance, we gotta get closer!" He throws the words out in a nonchalant manner. Like he's done it before.
Gertrude folds her arms across her heaving chest. The thought of the redneck having extensive experience in such a niche skill made her chuckle. "Lead the way, professor."
Merle looks at them slack jawed, as he watches his lady and baby brother load into the car with nothing more than two 9mms, a stick, and a burning rag hanging out of the gas tank. "And they say I'm crazy..."
Daryl pulls the keys off Gert and puts them in the ignition and slams his foot on the accelerator, watching the poor, tired Honda's speed gradually creep up, higher and higher.
