Zombies Don’t Hop A Living Dead Easter Poem By Rusty Fischer, author of Zombies Don’t Cry * * * * * Zombies Don’t Hop Rusty Fischer Copyright 2012 by Rusty Fischer Smashwords Edition * * * * * 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: Jaimie Duplass * * * * * Zombies Don’t Hop A Living Dead Easter Poem I’d never been fond Of that old Easter bunny; Who seemed rather goofy And all kinds of funny. And coloring Easter eggs On the big day; Was never for me If I’d had my way. The chocolate was fine Though it made me break out; “I wish Easter was over,” I wanted to shout. But this year was different I found it quite fun; Though everyone else Had started to run. You see there were zombies Re-alive in our town; And while others were frightened I didn’t feel down. They were totally harmless These living dead ghouls; As the town ran around Acting like fools. They came from the graveyard They came from the church; They shuffled and muffled As I watched them all lurch. I stood at a distance As they stumbled around; Getting used to their bone legs As they strode above ground. As everyone screamed I watched them approach; I had quite the subject I wanted to broach. “Can you guys remember?” I asked the undead. “What to do when it’s Easter And the eggs are all red?” The zombies did scratch Their wormy dead hair; Until one young zombie Stuck his hand in the air. “I think that you hunt them, These eggs you speak of,” He said with a croaking As I fell… in love. He was totally dreamy This undead hot guy; Even though he was oozing And had but one eye. He started to follow As I found my first egg; And he limped up behind me Favoring one leg. His undead friends followed As we scoured the ground; The zombies did cluster As the dead gathered round. They seemed rather fond Of this Easter tradition; Despite their unpleasant Dead body condition. And the best thing about Having zombies for Easter; Was when the eggs all ran out They couldn’t care leaster! There were plenty of other things To hunt on this day; As body parts aplenty Lay dead in the hay. You see while they rotted And started to smell; Off their big gray-green bodies Parts just naturally… fell. A nose to the left of me An eyeball over here; As into my basket I placed someone’s… ear! I found my first finger Once the eggs were all gone; As my hot zombie buddy Stumbled along. “That’s mine!” he said proudly As I tried to make sure; He held up his digits I saw only four!! “I’ll give it right back,” I promised him winking; When a bargain I had in mind When a trade I was thinking. “But there is a catch,” I said with a grin. “To get this thumb back My heart you must win!” He warmed to the challenge My chilly heartthrob; As he puckered his lips And a kiss tried to rob. I must say I let him As our lips finally met; And it was quite dry The opposite of wet. His breath rather musty His lips rather cold; I’d never let a mortal boy Be this kind of bold. His name it was Chester My zombie boyfriend; The only guy who made me wish Easter would never end! He wanted to hunt more eggs But I told him not to ask it; For fear that all his body parts Would wind up in… my basket! * * * * * About the Author Rusty Fischer is the author of over a dozen zombie novels, including Zombies Don’t Cry, Zombies Don’t Forgive, The Girl Who Could talk to Zombies and Panty Raid at Zombie High! Visit him at www.zombiesdontblog.blogspot.com to learn more and read tons of FREE zombie stories and poems just like this one!