Zombies Don’t Pinch
A Living Dead St. Patrick’s Day Poem
By Rusty Fischer, author of Zombies Don’t Cry
Copyright © 2011 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: Ivan Bliznetsov
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 synch.
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 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!
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 only 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!
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.
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