Zombies Don’t Gobble
A Living Dead Thanksgiving 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: Scott Griessel
Zombies Don’t Gobble
The table was set
The candles aglow;
When at the front door
Three zombies did show.
“Who could that be knocking?”
Poor Mother did pout.
“Probably Mindy’s boyfriend,”
My Father did shout.
“I’ll see who it is,”
I said to them all.
As I skittered and shimmied
To see who did call.
The door it did open
My heart it did shudder;
My legs felt just like
A bowl of whipped butter.
“Brains!” said one zombie
“Your Brains!” said another;
“It’s turkey or nothing,”
Blared my big, nosy mother.
I held my breath tight
As they studied my skull;
Then each rolled an eye
To find it… quite dull.
I felt almost rejected
As they brushed me aside;
And toward our Thanksgiving table
Each zombie did stride.
The zombies they shuffled
Straight up to the bird;
They left quite a smell
Like a three-week old turd!
They reached out their hands
To tear off a leg;
Mom said, “Sit down you three;
And don’t make me beg!”
I figured they’d tear her
One limb from another;
But those zombies seemed –
Quite scared of… my mother!
In no time they listened
In no time they sat;
And wore napkins in their collars
In two seconds flat!
My family sat watching
The zombies devour;
A 20-pound turkey
In less than an hour.
They gnawed on the wishbone
And guzzled down gravy;
Their behavior was almost
Well… downright… behave-y!
Mom smiled and cheered
As they refilled each plate;
It didn’t seem to bother her
That none of us ate.
And when there was nothing
To swallow or chew;
The zombies looked happy
Or at least far less… eeeewwwww!
My family sat frozen
Quite glued to our seats;
Until Zombie One burped
And sputtered, “Good eats!”
They rose without speaking
As we covered our brains;
They turned and shuffled out
Leaving only grease stains.
I stood at the door
To see where they’d gone;
And watched three stuffed zombies
Shuffle down our front lawn.
“It sure looks to me,”
I said with a tweet.
“Like they’re going away;
Like they’re crossing the street!”
“Now that they’re gone,”
Mom said with a grin.
“Our real Thanksgiving dinner
Can finally begin!”
Dad helped clear the table
Sis set it again;
As I asked Mom about
Her backup turkey plan.
“Why everyone knows,”
She grinned from ear to ear;
“To cook a second Thanksgiving dinner
When zombies are near!”
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.