Still, I kept watching because, you know, work. Post-spew, Sheila no longer has a heartbeat and is probably undead. She's also highly carnivorous, and more outgoing. Her new coworker, an aggressive form of meathead named Gary (oh hi, Nathan Fillion), can't get enough. Even though Sheila is obviously married, Gary takes it upon himself to accost her at her home and propose an affair. Sheila is intellectually disgusted but physically turned on. She feels hunger, not lust. She takes his hand and begins to nibble at his willing fingers. Then, she lets her teeth sink into his flesh and devours Gary, whom we might pity if he weren't such a creep. Gary has been reduced to a bloody pile of guts and meaty flesh. Sheila feasts on the fatty tissue. I run to the bathroom and heave. I do not fire up episode 2. It's easy to write off my reaction as that of a lightweight. I am a lightweight, albeit one who's managed to make it through plenty of episodes of The Walking Dead without my gag reflex being triggered so aggressively. But when I spoke to a colleague about the show, she had a similar (sorry) beef. The gore was just too gory. She, too, felt sick watching it. Long story short, I'm now exempt from watching future episodes. I won't fault anyone who does, though. It's got a strong cast, and the premise sounds like it could be a fresh update on The Stepford Wives and other suburbia-is-not-what-it-seems themes. If you've got a cast-iron stomach and a heavy tolerance for grossness, give the show a whirl. If you don't, either spare yourself, or keep a barf bag handy.