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You kids get off my lawn. 

Zombie Haiku: Good Poetry For Your...Brains - Ryan Mecum At Christmas dinner
presents are unwrapped like
a crunching brain pan.

Reading aloud we
miss the sounds of fingernails.
Is that carolers come?

There's some mistletoe
hanging from the magic'ly
reloading shotgun.

(This syllable thing
is harder than it looks, kids.
Cut me some darn slack.)

Like Ash, I shoot and shoot.
Klaatu barada nict...uh...
*cough cough* Good enough?

Darn comets and their
reanimating space rays.
The cellar's a trap.

Brooks says: get upstairs
and then destroy them. Not wrong.
A pain in the ass.

It's better fighting
the undead than my in-laws.
(I still love them though.)

(In-laws, not corpses,
just to make that crystal clear.)
Shooting stuff is fun!

Merry Christmas All!
Peace on earth. Goodwill to men.
Thanks Mitzi: you rock.