4 May 2012
Inspired by the magnificent Weirdwolf and based on a conversation after his piece 'Walkers'
It was the Zombapocalypse - about day 23 (Any later and zombies fall apart apparently) When who should grace my living room (ironic since she's dead) But Zombie Nan, a-calling To suck brains right from my head.
I tempted her with Battenburg, Some scones and hot, sweet tea. Alas, she threw the whole darn lot And hungrily eyed...me.
Poor Nan's not steady on her feet 'Specially since kicking the bucket. I briefly thought of taking her arm, But she snarled and I said, "Fu... Not a chance, Grandmama." (I can't bring myself to swear in front of her, even though she is a brain-swilling reeking corpse.)
She reached out with filth-smeared talons To grab me without much success I was filled with disgust and with horror (She had always looked bad in that dress.) 'Twas then that I slipped on poor Scruffy The remains of my poor Nan-chewed mutt. How I slipped and I fell in his innards And landed, in gore, on my butt.
At this stage I knew without quibble That this bit would never end well. But I prayed there was still 'Nana' in there Despite the pus, maggots and smell. Oh curse her foul zombie agenda! With the eating of organs and limbs. She now grunts and drools like a warthog Where she used to bake tarts and sing hymns.
I was graver than her as she ate me. I went pale as her noisy meal started... First my toes, then my ankle she chewed on. I went 'ouch' as it all rather smarted. "You've got thin, grandson dear," Nana gurgled. I was touched by her caring and thought. "This thigh has so little meat on it. Like them cheap ones from Tesco I bought."
And so folks, this was where life ended. And my time as a Walker began. At least it isn't so 'offal' Because Of the brains...and my Nan. We stagger the cities together, With nothing but brains on my mind. I still take Nan's arm as we stagger, But sometimes the rest's left behind.
Nightmare Nan & Her Zombie Agenda • Opuss № I