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 watch a mean zombie

  Start seeing doubly;

  Skip brains for a change

  And give him… some bubbly!

  * * * * *

  Rusty Fischer specializes in seasonal short stories and poems for the YA paranormal audience. Read more of Rusty’s FREE stories at www.rushingtheseason.com.

 
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