Zombies Don’t Pop
A Living Dead New Year’s Eve Poem
By Rusty Fischer, author of Zombies Don’t Cry
Copyright © 2010 by Rusty Fischer
All rights reserved.
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.
Cover credit: Dmitrijs Dmitrjevs
Zombies Don’t Pop
I’d never liked parties
At the end of the year;
Since it meant back-to-school time
Was drawing more near.
But this year was different
As the clock did ding-dong;
And out of the graveyard
Bodies soon were long gone.
They roved and they wandered
As midnight drew near;
It was clear they were shuffling
Why, right over… here!
The dead had arisen
From their burial plots;
I’d say there were dozens
I’d say there were lots!
Their movements were jerky
Their feet they did scrape;
But the street was too crowded
To make my escape.
Our party was outside
As the confetti flew;
And the revelers shouted
As the party it grew.
The whole street was blotto’d
Quite high off of champagne;
As the zombies grew closer
Inflicting their pain.
They chomped on the grown-ups
And then every kid;
It wouldn’t be nice
To describe what they did!
But maybe I’ll try
To give you a taste;
Of what happens when
Some zombies laid waste.
They cracked open noggins
And scooped the brains up;
And then on their torsos
They started to sup!
They chomped on their shin bones
And nibbled their toes;
As blood spewed all over
Like H20 from a hose.
The street grew quite bloody
Yes it was soon red;
As all of my neighbors
Grew terribly dead.
And there I stood trembling
As the zombies approached;
Yes on our street party
The dead did encroach.
I could find no weapon
To fight the horde off;
As I started to cry,
To sputter and cough.
And as 20 zombies
Reached in for a bite;
I grabbed for the first thing
That came into sight.
The cork popped right open
And knocked three dead down;
As the rest of them stood there
And started to frown.
I looked to my left
And then to my right;
Thank God they’d attacked
On New Year’s Eve night!
My back to the bar
I’d stumbled upon;
A case of champagne
That wasn’t quite gone.
I handed the bottle
To the first zombie in line;
She tipped it into her mouth
And thought it… quite fine!
She sucked and she swallowed
The bubbly all down;
It fizzled and fuzzled
All over her gown.
The rest gathered round
Waiting their turn;
For those quite undead
How quickly they learn!
I popped all the bottles
And gave them all out;
As the zombies grew drunker
And started to shout.
They were lively and merry
Those living dead ghouls;
And in no time at all
Were acting like fools.
I left them all there
Quite torn up and twisted;
As I made my escape
Why, all of them missed it!
So I no longer hate
That old New Year’s Eve;
Since from a zombie attack
It allowed me to leave.
And I do have one lesson
I’d like to impart;
As your next cocktail party
Is about to start:
To see a mean zombie
Get all troubly-wubbly;
Skip brains for a change
And give him… some bubbly!
About the Author:
Rusty Fischer
Rusty Fischer is a professional freelance writer who lives in sunny Florida with his beautiful wife, Martha. They enjoy riding bikes, long, leisurely walks on the beach, romantic dinners and zombie movies; lots and lots of zombie movies! (Well, Rusty does, anyway!)
Rusty’s new book, Zombies Don’t Cry, will be available from Medallion Press in May of 2011. In the meantime, check out www.medallionpress.com/blurbs/zombie_cry.html for updates and blurbs as the publication date nears.