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Christmas Night of the Living Dead

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  • Christmas Night of the Living Dead

    Christmas Night of the Living Dead

    The undead in Monroeville liked Christmas a lot
    With the Mall full of shoppers, well, how could they not?
    There were big ones and small ones, all juicy and sweet
    Those fleshy ripe shoppers were ready to eat.

    But the zombies had eaten before they set out
    And the food slowed them down as they shuffled about
    It took them so long to arrive at the town
    That the stores were all closed and the mall was locked
    Could they snack on a shopper right now? They could not.
    So they stood there, confused, in the car parking lot.
    They stood there confused and they sniffed at the air,
    In hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there;
    For he was the juiciest fleshpot of all
    And the zombies awaited him outside the mall.

    Now winter’s a time when we all like to feast
    From humans to zombies to every wild beast
    So when the mall closed, all the shoppers went down
    To a big winter party just outside of town.
    For we all love our food when the weather gets cold,
    And the food at this feast was a sight to behold!

    Some wanted clementines, cake, and mixed nuts
    Or canes made of candy, no ifs, ands, or buts!
    Hot chocolate to warm them on nights bathed in snow
    And the Scottish food haggis. (It’s best not to know
    What they put in that stuff—let’s keep it a mystery—
    But hey, it’s kept Scottish folk warm throughout history.)

    The Germans brought sausages stuffed with...surprise
    The English brought kidneys and steak in their pies
    For dessert, there were dishes with lightly spiced apple
    And a great Pennsylvania dish, known as fried scrapple
    That’s meaty and spicy, made of...well...who knows what?
    But on cold days, I’ll tell you, it’s certainly hot.

    But they weren’t serving scrapple out there at the Mall.
    They were serving it at the Community Hall,
    So the zombies were lacking the holiday cheer
    Because Santa, they feared, would not ever appear.

    Then the scrapple-smell wafted clear down to the mall,
    And with it, the whiff of a man known to all
    The aroma of pine trees, and cookies, and milk
    And a red suit worn over a shirt of fine silk
    A jolly old elf-smell, with fur and a beard.

    Then one of the zombies groaned, “Guys! This is weird…
    That mystery-meat smell is wafting so thick,
    But under it all, I can smell good Saint Nick!”
    Yes, the zombies could smell him, out there in the street.
    And they stumbled towards him, in search of his meat.

    As the folk of Monroeville sat down at the feast,
    They had no idea that, off to the east,
    Was a shambling army of man-eating fiends,
    So they partied as if it were still Halloween.
    And the visions that danced in their party-time heads
    Were of brisket and latkes and plates of warm breads,
    Of pierogies and stollen cake, foods of that ilk,
    And pudding and fruitcake and mugs of warm milk
    Of Stilton and crackers and tea brewed quite strong
    And afterwards, plenty of music and song.
    In short, as the zombies approached for their food
    Monroeville was steeped in a partying mood

    Except for a smart little girl in the hall,
    Who kept asking questions of one and of all.
    This clever young lass was young Jennifer-Sue,
    Who was smart ’cause she knew just how little she knew.
    (If you look at a thing and want knowledge to grow,
    You find somebody smart in the room that you know,
    And you ask them to tell you, if they’d be so kind,
    And that is the way that you fill up your mind.)

    “What’s in that scrapple and haggis?” she’d say,
    But her father and mother just shooed her away.
    And the chef in the kitchen would likewise not talk,
    And the mayor and the minister just took a walk,
    So Jennifer-Sue made a note in her book
    To go to the library one day for a look.
    Because she had knowledge that most people lack:
    You can learn many things from a good almanac.

    Then Jennifer-Sue looked around and about,
    And saw some bright statues and gave out a shout.
    “That’s Jesus, I think, lying there in the straw!
    Is that the same Jesus who’s nailed to the wall?
    Is that baby the guy on the cross with the beard?
    Are they the same person? Now isn’t that weird?”

    And the folks of Monroeville let out a loud shout,
    And laughed at what Jennifer-Sue spoke about.
    It wasn’t a cruel laugh, but one of good cheer.
    Though soon, it gave way to a scream of real fear,
    For the door to the hall burst apart with a clatter,
    And the folk looked around to see what was the matter.
    And what to their wondering eyes should appear
    But a slobbering zombie a-stumbling near.

    Then the men of Monroeville went on the attack
    And they pushed back that ghoul; closed the door to a crack,
    When the rest of the zombies began to arrive
    And burst through that door...would the humans survive?

    They grabbed a big table and pushed it, legs first,
    At the horde, hoping they’d be completely dispersed.
    But the zombies pushed back, and they groaned in their
    Because all they could think about was Santa’s brain!
    The smell of that fleshpot engendered such hunger
    Like the warm smell of scrapple had, when they were

    So the zombies pushed one way, the humans, the other
    As their eyes met, hearts melted, as brother faced brother
    For some of the zombies were family and friends
    And it’s hard to view loved ones through that kind of lens.

    The two sides were well matched; neither side budged
    But at this rate, the humans would lose, as they judged:
    Because zombies don’t tire; they just keep on going
    And the humans could feel just how tired they were

    “Let’s throw something at them!” The pushing men shouted
    And the crowd grabbed for things that might help—but I
    doubt it—
    For the knives, forks, and plates that they grabbed, aimed,
    and tossed
    In an effort that, frankly, was doomed to be lost.
    Because though tossing tableware seems rather drastic,
    They weren’t good projectiles; but made out of plastic.

    Then a voice rose above all the groans and the shouting
    “We can get through this, people, we shouldn’t be doubting
    For we know what this season is really about
    It’s all about faith; not at all about doubt!
    And that boy in the straw in the crib—there! By you!—
    He rose from the dead, and the zombies did too!
    And although they are tireless, hungry, and strong
    I’m sure there’s a way we can all get along!”

    It was Jennifer-Sue. But the grown-ups said “Fie!
    You’re a kid, you don’t get it! We’re all going to die!
    They don’t care that it’s Christmas, and all of that stuff
    These zombies will kill us--enough is enough!
    Let’s all give up now, at least we’ll die quickly!”

    But Jennifer-Sue wouldn’t quit, and she slickly
    Picked up some scrapple, and sausages too
    And a slice of fried haggis, which she then threw
    At the zombie horde being restrained by the table
    She threw just as skillfully as she was able:
    Those mystery-meat pieces shot out through the air
    And into the mouths of the zombies right there.

    And the story they tell of what happened that day
    Is: The zombies stopped pushing, and started to say,
    “This tastes better than brains...I ate this as a boy
    And it makes me remember that Christmassy joy
    I could eat more of this, for my old mother’s sake
    And chow down on some slices of that stollen cake!”

    And the folks of Monroeville say that was the time
    That the zombies spoke English—and spoke it in rhyme!

    Zombies took that long table the humans were shovin’
    And set it down gently, and went to the oven
    And brought out some more of that piping hot scrapple
    To serve to the humans, with pies full of apple
    Then they served themselves up a heaping great plateful
    And the humans could tell they were ever so grateful.

    So the humans and zombies sat down to the feast
    Oh, they partied like neighbors—that’s saying the least!
    The zombies swore they would henceforth cause no trouble
    The humans said that, for their part, that goes double!

    And from that day forth, through Monroeville, they said,
    “At Christmas, we welcome the formerly dead
    The people who rose from the grave are invited
    To eat with the humans, who would be delighted
    To share all their haggis, and scrapple, and stuff
    Till the zombies and humans have eaten enough.”

    So after your party, one Christmassy night
    When you’ve eaten with friends, and you’re feeling alright
    Take some time to be quiet and listen quite closely
    For according to legend, you’ll often hear, mostly,
    The voice of a girl wafting through the night air
    As she asks one more question to folks gathered there.
    It’s Jennifer-Sue, and you’ll hear her say
    “Just what do they put in this stuff anyway?”

  • #2
    Bravo crashreboot! I enjoyed this immensely!


    • #3
      Bravissimo!!!!!! Sustained the rhyme throughout. Funny, charming, great storytelling. Should become a Christmas classic! Magnificent.


      • #4
        An epic poem, never faltering, never wavering, telling a unique and blissful tale of food saving humanity. Long live der wienerschnitzel! I will third the Bravissimo, crash!!


        • #5
          yOU hAd mE LikE

          wELL dONE


          • #6
            Amazing!!!! LOVE!