THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
---KING ZOMBIE STYLE---
(read, of course, to T'was the Night before Christmas")

By Chester Jacques

T'was the night before Christmas and all through the state,
Only Zombies were stirring, with hunger to sate.

Intestines were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that soon they'd be medium rare.

The Warmies were nestled, all snug in their beds,
Dreading that soon they would be undeads;

And Mamma dripping pus, and I with brown slime,
Had just settle back, for a good Zombie time;

When out in the street there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my grave to see what was the matter.

Away from my headstone, I stumbled and fell,
(My hand just then dropped off, and rolled down a well.)

The moon on the crest of the fresh-opened tomb,
Gave a feeling of horror and impending doom;

When, what should appear to my remaining eye,
But a loud motorbike, with a cool zombie guy,

With a set of sunglasses hiding his stare,
I knew in a moment, King Zombie was there.

More rapid that Corvettes his chopper then came,
And he whistled and shouted and started to maim.

"Now ribcage, now eyeball, now colon and liver,
Then stomach, then kidney, then brain, heart and finger,

From the tips of your toes, to the top of your head,
I'll eat your warm flesh, and make you undead."

As short as the time he takes with an eye,
To pluck from a skull, and start it to try,

So out of the graveyards his chopper then flew;
An awesome machine, and King Zombie, too.

And then, like a noise from old Bangladesh,
I heard writhing and squirming of maggoty flesh.

I was twisting my head to hear that great sound,
When King Zombie entered my burial ground.

In leather and denim was the way he was dressed,
And an old Warmie spleen he had tucked in his vest.

A bundle of limbs he had flung on his back
(Handy and fresh when he wanted a snack.)

His teeth-how they sparkled!  His mouth was quite gory,
His lips were curled back, like when hunting a quarry.

His long, spiky hair was drawn back with a strap,
And his breath smelled like old half-decomposed crap.

The stump of a hand he had tucked 'neath a patch;
He used it for when he wanted to scratch.

He had a broad's face, and a little round belly,
And he ate them both then, with some strawberry jelly.

He was frightening and dark, a right evil old fart,
And I shuddered to see him, and swallowed my heart.

But with a wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
Reminded me that I, too, was undead.

He started a chant which then rose to a peak;
(He was searching the grounds for some fresh meat named Deake.)

Then, picking his nose and scratching his crotch,
He finished his spell.  He let me watch.

He sprang to his bike and opened the throttle,
And away he flew, like a drunk to a bottle.

But I heard the King say, ere he rode out of sight,
"Zombie Christmas to all, and to all, a good fright!"