Zombies Don’t Trick or Treat
A Living Dead Halloween 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: Dmytro Konstantynov
Zombies Don’t Trick or Treat
The zombies were out
For a fun, festive night;
There were goblins and ghouls
And witches in sight.
Over there was a demon
His legs warm as toast;
Down that street’s a pumpkin
Down that one’s a ghost.
No, it wasn’t Armageddon
Or a monster’s pot luck;
It was the one mortal night
That didn’t quite… suck!
That’s right, little ghosties
It was… Halloween;
The creepiest, crawliest
Living dead scene!
Poor Chester was frightened
He was new to this town;
And ever since dying
Poor Chester’d been down.
He wasn’t quite used
To being undead;
If he had his way
He’d be living… instead.
His friends liked being zombies
They found it quite cool;
But all Chester felt
Was like one giant fool!
He hated his hairdo
He hated his skin;
He hated the fact
That he could no longer grin.
His legs they were stiff
His arms were quite chilly;
And stumbling around
Just made Chester feel… silly.
Tonight might be different
Poor Chester agreed;
As he watched other kids
Look as foolish as he.
For each one looked goofy
For each one looked grim;
For each one looked not
Quite much better than… him!
“But where are they going?”
He asked of a bud;
Who looked at him like
He had the IQ of a spud.
“They’re all trick or treating,”
Was the answer he gave;
“Or have you forgotten,
Since you rose from the grave?”
“I seem to recall,”
Little Chester did say;
“Of begging for candy
On Halloween day.”
“Let’s give it a try,”
His buddy made it sound like a synch;
“Chocolate’s not as good as brains
But it’ll do in a pinch.”
Chester shrugged
And followed his friend;
As they shuffled and groaned
Up the long driveway’s end.
The lawn was festooned
With orange and black;
The setting quite ripe
For a zombie attack!
The young man who stood
At his cozy front door;
Thought the zombies on his porch
Wore costumes; nothing more.
He smiled,
They shuffled;
He sniffed
And he snuffled.
“I quite love your costumes,”
He said with a smile.
“But your breath I smelled coming
For more than a mile!”
When the man tried to offer
A bowl full of candy;
All Chester could smell
Was his brain oh-so-dandy.
He reached for the bowl
But dropped it instead;
And as the man bent to catch it
Clamped onto his head.
“But why?” asked the man
Squealing in pain;
“Why bother with candy,” Chester said
“When my treat is… your brain!”
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.