Street lights flickering.Ghoulish moans from the alley
and shuffling footsteps.
Don't call them zombies–
it's more polite to call them
the living impaired.
The outbreak spread fast–
just one night of zombies for
total anarchy.
Zombie heads go splat
with my twenty-two rifle
until it jams up.
If they surround you,
there's no way to get past them:
walls of rotten teeth.
I hate zombie dogs–
being zombified doesn't
slow them down any.
He's remembering:
that one zombie in the crowd
who picks up a gun.
They prefer fresh brains,
but if they get desperate
they'll eat each other.
Lock and load, zombies–
my brains aren't on the menu.
Eat bullets instead!
They found a way in:
zombies jumping down chimney.
Should've made a fire.
