Read Zombies Don't Celebrate: 8 Holiday Poems Page 1

Zombies Don’t Celebrate:

  A Living Dead Holiday Poetry Anthology

  By Rusty Fischer, Author of Zombies Don’t Cry

  * * * * *

  Zombies Don’t Celebrate

  Rusty Fischer

  Copyright 2012 by Rusty Fischer

  * * * * *

  This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

  Front cover credit: Ivan Bliznetsov

  * * * * *

  Author’s Note:

  The following is a FREE short story edited by the author himself. If you see any glaring mistakes, I apologize and hope you don’t take it out on my poor characters, who had nothing to do with their author’s bad grammar!

  Happy reading… and happy holidays!

  Enjoy!

  * * * * *

  Table of Contents

  Zombies Don’t Date: A Living Dead Valentine’s Day Poem

  Zombies Don’t Pinch: A Living Dead St. Patrick’s Day Poem

  Zombies Don’t Hop: A Living Dead Easter Poem

  Zombies Don’t BBQ: A Living Dead 4th of July Poem

  Zombies Don’t Trick or Treat: A Living Dead Halloween Poem

  Zombies Don’t Gobble: A Living Dead Thanksgiving Poem

  Zombies Don’t Jingle: A Living Dead Christmas Poem

  Zombies Don’t Pop: A Living Dead New Year’s Eve Poem

  * * * * *

  Zombies Don’t Date

  The envelopes kept stacking

  One after the other;

  Including the six sent

  By my dopey younger brother!

  The cards they were shiny

  The cards they were frilly;

  But getting so many

  Just made me feel... silly!

  It was February 14th,

  Yes, Valentine’s Day;

  And as the cards piled up

  They started to sway.

  I tried to keep up

  With those cards colored red;

  But it’s hard to open envelopes

  When your fingers are… dead.

  I felt quite embarrassed

  With my tower of riches;

  Even if it did tick off

  The resident class witches!

  They griped and they grumbled

  They lobbed their attacks;

  But it was only because

  Of their own piddly stacks!

  It must have been hard

  For those popular gals;

  To suddenly find themselves

  Without last year’s pen pals.

  For while all the guys

  Sent cards my way;

  The popular girls

  Were having a “no letter” day.

  It seemed all the boys

  Were writing my name;

  On the front of those cards

  In this Valentine’s game.

  It felt quite unwelcome

  This rush of attention;

  I was scared Mrs. Melvin

  Might give me detention!

  The class was abuzz

  As the party revved up;

  I had so many cards

  I could barely keep up.

  There was one from O-Shea

  And one from Hasheen;

  The prettiest card

  That I’d ever seen.

  There was one from Billy

  And two from Brad;

  All three were so desperate

  I felt kind of… sad.

  Why can’t these boys see

  That my heart no longer thrums?

  That when it comes to love

  Well, it’s like I’m all thumbs!

  I smiled and I nodded

  With each brand new card;

  But playing so coy

  Turned out to be hard!

  I tossed my dead hair

  And licked my dead lips;

  I batted dead eyelashes

  And swiveled dead hips.

  It didn’t disgust them,

  These hot, randy guys;

  That there wasn’t a spark

  Of life in my eyes.

  I’d been telling them gently

  Since I rose from the grave;

  That for a zombie boy

  My heart I must save.

  It just wouldn’t do

  To date a live guy;

  And yet all these heartthrobs,

  They just had to try.

  I couldn’t quite get

  Why they all liked me best;

  When for 17 years

  They couldn’t care less!

  And the more I said “No,”

  The more they did woo;

  The more I ran away

  The harder they did pursue!

  I never quite tried

  To lead those boys on;

  And yet all over me

  They continued to fawn.

  It was hard to explain

  This wicked attraction;

  When in real life

  I’d never gotten this much action!

  It seems that to catch

  Every hunk’s eye;

  All I had to do

  Was just go and… die!

  * * * * *

  Zombies Don’t Pinch

  Please take my advice

  This St. Patrick’s Day;

  And pocket your fingers

  Yes, put them away!

  For zombies aren’t fond of

  Their skin getting pinched;

  Though to you it’s so easy

  Though to you it’s a cinch.

  You see they’re quite fragile

  Those old living dead;

  And while to us it’s a prank

  Pinches fill them with… dread!

  For while we feel a sting

  Or a little enflamed;

  To a zombie a pinch

  Is no St. Pat’s game!

  I learned not to do it

  I found out the hard way;

  When I pinched a real zombie

  Last St. Patrick’s Day!

  I thought it’d be funny

  On this holiday scene;

  And hey, after all

  He wasn’t wearing… green!

  He was new to our school

  A lonely old thing;

  Who knew St. Pat’s Day

  Just wasn’t his… thing?

  His name it was Edgar

  Which didn’t help much;

  He was quite fond of ice cubes

  And brain, guts and such.

  Though he dressed all in fashion

  It was painfully clear;

  That his presence was alarming

  And filled us with fear.

  But I had decided

  To make him a friend;

  Little did I know

  My life was about to end!

  I crept up behind him

  A smile on my face;

  And sat down beside him

  Yes, right in his space!

  He thought I was friendly

  His smile it was sad;

  And now I felt creepy

  And terribly bad.

  But it was the rule

  And the sooner he learned;

  Our St. Patrick’s custom

  The less he’d get burned.

  He smiled and asked my name

  I said, “Mary Sue!”

  And then went and added,

  “I’m sorry for you!”

  Before he could question

  Before he’d ask why;

  I pinched his left shoulder

  And oh, did he cry!
/>
  A roar was more like it

  A growl I do think;

  Right before into my bicep

  His teeth he did sink!!!

  My flesh tore asunder

  My blood it did spray;

  As old Edgar nibbled

  The morning away.

  And when it was over

  I felt rather… strange;

  Already my body

  Had started to change.

  I felt quite a chill

  Straight from the inside;

  My heart wasn’t beating

  It was clear that… I’d died!

  “But why did you do that?”

  Of Edgar I wondered.

  He said, “Never pinch me;

  You totally blundered!”

  I saw why he’d angered

  When I pinched his skin;

  Since where I had touched him

  His skin was caved in.

  It looked quite unsightly

  And so to strike back;

  Old Edgar he’d mounted

  A zombie attack!

  And now I was like him

  All ragged and dead;

  My friends they did diss me

  And hung out instead.

  My life as a zombie

  Wasn’t so bad;

  Though Living Dead Edgar

  Was the one friend I had.

  And somehow a year passed

  With only brains to eat;

  I thought I’d survived

  Some momentous feat.

  As St. Pat’s Day started

  All over again;

  I totally blanked

  On what to do when…

  Some poor mortal dumb-dumb

  Saw that I wore no green;

  And instead of turning

  Got totally mean.

  And pinched my right bicep

  And tore it right off!

  As Edgar looked worried

  As Edgar did scoff.

  But what did I care

  Now that I was not living

  If to some dumb mortal

  A new life I was giving?

  I bit all who pinched me

  And turned them quite dead;

  Until our school halls

  Ran totally red.

  And all who came near us

  Yes all who did plot;

  To creep up and pinch us

  Soon started to… rot.

  And so heed my warning

  On this St. Pat’s Day;

  If you see a zombie

  Run the other way.

  For zombies don’t like green

  And don’t care an inch;

  To suck on your marrow

  If you dare to pinch!

  * * * * *

  Zombies Don’t Hop

  I’d never been fond

  Of that old Easter bunny;

  Who seemed rather goofy

  And all kinds of funny.

  And coloring Easter eggs

  On the big day;

  Was never for me

  If I’d had my way.

  The chocolate was fine

  Though it made me break out;

  “I wish Easter was over,”

  I wanted to shout.

  But this year was different

  I found it quite fun;

  Though everyone else

  Had started to run.

  You see there were zombies

  Re-alive in our town;

  And while others were frightened

  I didn’t feel down.

  They were totally harmless

  These living dead ghouls;

  As the town ran around

  Acting like fools.

  They came from the graveyard

  They came from the church;

  They shuffled and muffled

  As I watched them all lurch.

  I stood at a distance

  As they stumbled around;

  Getting used to their bone legs

  As they strode above ground.

  As everyone screamed

  I watched them approach;

  I had quite the subject

  I wanted to broach.

  “Can you guys remember?”

  I asked the undead.

  “What to do when it’s Easter

  And the eggs are all red?”

  The zombies did scratch

  Their wormy dead hair;

  Until one young zombie

  Stuck his hand in the air.

  “I think that you hunt them,

  These eggs you speak of,”

  He said with a croaking

  As I fell… in love.

  He was totally dreamy

  This undead hot guy;

  Even though he was oozing

  And had but one eye.

  He started to follow

  As I found my first egg;

  And he limped up behind me

  Favoring one leg.

  His undead friends followed

  As we scoured the ground;

  The zombies did cluster

  As the dead gathered round.

  They seemed rather fond

  Of this Easter tradition;

  Despite their unpleasant

  Dead body condition.

  And the best thing about

  Having zombies for Easter;

  Was when the eggs all ran out

  They couldn’t care leaster!

  There were plenty of other things

  To hunt on this day;

  As body parts aplenty

  Lay dead in the hay.

  You see while they rotted

  And started to smell;

  Off their big gray-green bodies

  Parts just naturally fell.

  A nose to the left of me

  An eyeball over here;

  As into my basket

  I placed someone’s… ear!

  I found my first finger

  Once the eggs were all gone;

  As my hot zombie buddy

  Stumbled along.

  “That’s mine!” he said proudly

  As I tried to make sure;

  He held up his digits

  I saw only four!!

  “I’ll give it right back,”

  I promised him winking;

  When a bargain I had in mind

  When a trade I was thinking.

  “But there is a catch,”

  I said with a grin.

  “To get this thumb back

  My heart you must win!”

  He warmed to the challenge

  My chilly heartthrob;

  As he puckered his lips

  And a kiss tried to rob.

  I must say I let him

  As our lips finally met;

  And it was quite dry

  The opposite of wet.

  His breath rather musty

  His lips rather cold;

  I’d never let a mortal boy

  Be this kind of bold.

  His name it was Chester

  My zombie boyfriend;

  The only guy who made me wish

  Easter would never end!

  He wanted to hunt more eggs

  But I told him not to ask it;

  For fear that all his body parts

  Would wind up in… my basket!

  * * * * *

  Zombies Don’t BBQ

  I never quite got

  Why we chose to go there;

  As soon as heat sizzled

  The warm summer air.

  I always thought picnics

  Were best in the park;

  And, come to think of it,

  Not held in… the dark!

  But he chose the graveyard

  And he brought the punch;

  And he called our dinner

  A barbecue “lunch.”

  It felt kind of creepy

  This graveyard affair;

  As fireworks rocked

  The warm July air.

  But hi
s eyes were so dreamy

  And his muscles so strong;

  I thought to myself,

  “Girl, what could go wrong?!?”

  And so I ignored

  The headstones so pale;

  As the black cats stopped purring

  And started to wail.

  My boyfriend looked happy

  As he leaned on a tomb;

  Though I must have looked like

  A Sister of Doom.

  His backpack was full

  Of the latest TNT;

  With black cats and cherry bombs

  As far as the eye could see.

  “Just wait ‘til it’s midnight,”

  He said with a grin;

  “The minute the clock strikes

  Our fun will begin!”

  The night grew quite late

  As the 4th of July;

  Exploded above us

  In the warm, hazy sky.

  I sipped on a soda

  And nibbled a chip;

  As around my shoulders

  His arm it did slip.

  It felt oh so dreamy

  His chilly embrace;

  As his cold, hoary breath

  Splashed across my face.

  I nuzzled against him

  His chest nice and firm;

  And when he nuzzled my shoulder

  I started to squirm.

  But how could that happen

  If he’s over there?

  So who is that twirling

  The tips of my… hair?!?

  I jumped up with fright

  And scrambled away;

  To find my boy Johnny

  Grinning away.

  Behind me came shuffling

  The gnashing of teeth;

  As the dead became living

  And sought some relief.

  Their arms were outstretched

  As they reached for my head;