Many succumbed to the rot…
But America’s 1stSgt,
Armed to the teeth,
On the undead twas open season.
How did the pandemic start? No one quite knows the reason.
An industrial accident? Plotting terrorists!
It could be, perhaps, the work of mad scientists.
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been too much TV, the internet, and the mall.
Whatever the reason,
His eyes blazing red,
He stood there on Christmas Eve, hating the undead,
Staring down from his bunker through his binos with a frown
At the boarded up windows below in the town.
For he knew every Who down in Who-ville hadn’t fled
And were unprepared to repel those reanimated.
“They’re completely ill equipped!” he snarled with a sneer.
“Tomorrow is Christmas! The horde is practically here!”
Then he growled, his trigger finger reflexively pressing,
“I MUST save the day. Man, this is depressing!”
For, tomorrow, he knew…
…The infected would destroy.
Would run amok through the town. They’d eat every girl and boy!
And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!
That’s one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!
On the Whos, young and old, zombies would feast.
And they’d feast! And they’d feast!
And they’d FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!
Who children fleeing in terror, would fall prey to the beast.
Which was something the 1stSgt couldn’t stand in the least!
They’d do something he liked least of all!
Every zombie in Who-ville, the tall and the small,
Would stand close together, the odd one still roaming.
They’d gather in a mob. And the dead would start moaning!
They’d moan! And they’d moan!
AND they’d MOAN! MOAN! MOAN! MOAN!
The very thought of this noise made the 1stSgt groan.
He exclaimed out loud, “I must stop the undead! ”
It seems like forever their infection has spread!
I WILL stop them from coming!
…By sword-stroke and hot lead!”
“I know just what to do!” The 1stSgt grinned ear to ear.
And he made a quick inventory of all his war gear.
And he chuckled, and clucked, “What a great zombie fight! ”
With this sleigh mounted flame thrower I’ll cook them all night!”
On the sleigh he loaded ammo
And his tomahawk axe
Slung his rifle, holstered pistols
And set the flame thrower to ‘max’.
Then he strapped on his blade,
Hammered in Japanese forge.
A monster cutter indeed,
Crafted for carnage and war.
He cheerfully swung aboard
And the sleigh started down
Toward the homes where zombies
Were already invading the town.
All their windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air.
All the Whos were all dreaming sweet dreams without care
When he arrived to confront the horde within the town square.
“You’ll go hungry tonight,” the 1stSgt hissed
And his pistols erupted, one in each fist.
Having gotten their attention, he continued the battle
Unleashing bursts of liquid flame and herding them like cattle.
Skin scorched, hair burning, they combusted in fire
Their bodies fell in a heap, a fitting funeral pyre.
The ghouls slithered and slunk, dead smiles unpleasant,
As the 1stSgt realized the fuel tank was most spent!
The ravenous swarm closed in like a mob,
But were dispersed again by flaming molotov.
Then he unslung his rifle. It spoke with a roar.
Well placed head shots splashing brains on the floor.
He was surrounded only once, for a moment or two.
Then drew his monster cutter and fought his way through.
Heads tumbled like acrobats in the snow near his feet.
At the slaying of zombies he was considered elite.
The battle punctuated with barking muzzle flashes.
He hurled corpses into the fire, burning them to ashes!
In the face of a ghoul a pistol he did shove
When he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.
He turned around fast, and he saw a small Who!
Little Cindy-Lou Who, who was not more than two.
Surpirse at the appearance of this little Who daughter
How did she wander out here amidst all the carnage and slaughter?
She stared at him frightened and said, “1stSgt, why,
“Why do the dead walk the earth? WHY?”
Without another word he snatched her up quick!
Seeking to take her to safety most riki tik.
He ran and he struck to escape the tide of undead.
But they seemed to appear wherever he fled.
Their clawed hands reached out seeking flesh in their grasp
He cursed at the ghouls and continued to slash.
Trapped! A dead end with no where to go,
Patting Cindy-Lou on the head, he turned to face the dead foe.
Pissed he had let them corner him so.
Then he did hear a sound rising over the snow.
It started in low.
Then it started to grow…
But the sound wasn’t sad!
Why, this sound sounded merry!
It couldn’t be so!
It couldn’t be so!
But it WAS merry! VERY!
He stared back at Who-ville!
The 1stSgt popped his eyes!
Then he shook!
Then he shook!
What he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every Who from Who-ville, the tall and the small,
Were fighting the zombies! Without any training at all!
He HADN’T stopped the undead from coming!
Somehow or other, the Whos fought just the same!
America’s 1stSgt, with his booted feet cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: “Could it be so?”
They brained zombies with hammers! They bludgeoned with sticks!
Hit them in the head with axes, and socks filled with bricks!
“Enough with the thinking! There are zombies to slay!”
Snatching up his tomahawk he rejoined the fray!
And what happened then…?
Well…in Who-ville they say
Slew 10,000 undead in one day!
Inspired by his example, Who-ville fought through the night.
They killed invading ghouls until the bright morning light.
And when the battle was over, oh what a feast!
Served the first MRE!
Ha-ha! Merry Christmas everybody!