Zombies Don't Celebrate: 8 Holiday Poems
Rusty Fischer
Zombies Don’t Celebrate:
A Living Dead Holiday Poetry Anthology
By Rusty Fischer, Author of Zombies Don’t Cry
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Zombies Don’t Celebrate
Rusty Fischer
Copyright 2012 by Rusty Fischer
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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
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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!
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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!
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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;
