Rick was out cold and damn lucky that his son was smart enough, true enough to family that he wasn't going to turn his back on him and leave him to get killed in his state of unconsciousness. If it weren't for him luring those walkers away, there was no telling what could have happened if they'd found a way in.
He shouldn't have been such an ass over everything at the prison. He should have been able to protect everyone, to save their home and not let it get as far as it had. How hard would it have been to kill the Governor if they'd gotten into Woodbury and fought there so that the destruction was left behind? This was Carl's chance to take some time for himself, to prove that he didn't need anyone else and could keep himself alive under any circumstances that happened to surround him when he least expected them.
All he needed was his gun -- and with the holster strapped to his thigh, there was no way he was losing that anytime soon. Although it'd been no help against the walker in that bedroom, he was determined to take that as a sign that he could make do without his weapon of choice as well. In fact, he was going to prove it even further once he finished his pudding; he was going to get his shoe back.
The can and spoon were dropped to the street below and he eased himself off the roof and down the side of the porch. The teen took a moment to recover from hitting the ground harder than expected, his stomach screaming at him from the confusion of going from starving to stuffed in such a short amount of time.
Back into the house -- it was easier with the door already open -- and he made sure there was a clear path from the front door to the bedroom he'd trapped the corpse in. There was a proud smirk playing at his features while looking over the words left on the barrier between him and the thing that'd stolen his other shoe. First thing was first; he needed to get rid of the thing that posed the threat. The warning wouldn't be needed after he was done this time - this round wasn't a surprise - he was ready now.
The bedroom door was opened and he locked eyes on the monster, taking a step backwards. "Want a bite? You'll have to catch me first." With those words, he started out of the house again, down the steps and out the door with the walker close behind him, but keeping enough distance between them to be out of reach. Luring him outside, he grabbed the garden stake from the porch and waited by the mess that'd fallen from the roof.
The stake was driven into the walker's throat rather than its skull, level with his jaw to keep him from opening his mouth properly before knocking him to the ground. Knees pressed into the corpse's biceps and he grabbed for the can again, using the sharp and jagged edge to press into the space beneath where the stake rested with all of his weight (his hands on the metal of the still-intact portion of the can, simply bent back to expose the blade he needed and avoid cutting his own hands up simultaneously.)
This was a game now - payback for making him struggle so much with getting out of the room they'd had their last scene together in. Rocking the can side to side, providing more of a sawing motion to help cut through, he shoved his weight down against the metal, all but grinning as he felt the muscle and separating bones give beneath him. The body on the ground relaxed and Carl sat back, admiring the way the head struggled to bite with the complications the boy had created between the ground and the stake. His arm lifted, throwing the can aside before wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.