'Twas the week before Christmas and all through the town,
Not a zombie was stirring; they'd all been gunned down.
The corpses were burned in the chimney with care;
The stench of their rot was soon filling the air.
The living were nestled all snug in their beds,
Hoping their brains were still safe in their heads.
And Ma with her Uzi and me with my gun,
Stood watch o'er the door, ready to run.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my seat to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash;
Tore down the nailed boards and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the blood spattered snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the terrors below.
When, what to my horrified eyes should appear,
But a miniature hearse and eight undead reindeer.
I had to move fast, I had to shoot quick;
Or else I'd fall victim to brain-hungry St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles, more zombies came;
Some of them neighbors, I knew them by name.
"There's Harvey and William; there's Barbara and Billy;
That's Carol and Sarah, well don't they look silly!"
They lurched toward the porch, they clawed at the wall;
Blast away, blast away! I shot at them all.
Still on toward the house, the zombies kept coming;
If Santa got in, we'd all soon be running.
Then like a nightmare, I heard on the roof
Scratching and moaning -- It's not zombie-proof!
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
Down the chimney a zombie came with a bound.
He was all dressed in rags, from his head to his foot
And his clothes were all covered in brains, blood and soot.
Another soon followed right on his back,
They shuffled on in, prepared to attack.
Their eyes were all milky, their cheeks sunken in;
Their lips were drawn back in a sardonic grin.
The hair on their heads was as stiff as dead straw;
Their fingers curled up into flesh-tearing claws.
The stump of an arm was clenched in one's teeth,
And the face of the other resembled ground beef.
They were greenish and pale, all rotten and smelly;
I shot one in the head; his brains turned to jelly.
Another soon followed, dressed like an elf.
I laughed when I saw it, in spite of myself.
It looked at me and twisted its head,
Filling my gut with a feeling of dread.
It spoke not a word, but went straight to its work,
Shambling and shuffling, all gnashing and jerks.
I pulled my trigger - Right in the nose!
He wanted to eat me, or worse, I suppose.
Ma sprang to my side, shot one and then whistled.
"Guess that'll keep him from chewing our gristle."
Once the zombies were dead, I turned off the light.
A Zombie Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
With my deepest apologies to Clement Moore... This is what happens when I'm trapped inside by the snow.
Links of the Living Dead:
Just a few links tonight. Fellow blogger JA of My New Plaid Pants, posted this wonderfully amusing piece about Sean of the Dead over at The Film Experience. He's one of the few gay bloggers out there who loves Zombies as much as Uncle Prospero does. His own blog is pretty funny, too.
There will probably not be a Zombie Zone post next week (I say probably, because one never knows), so I will take this opportunity to wish you all a very Zombie Christmas. If you're wondering what to get me, try this:
More gore, anon.
More gore, anon.