Zombies

I guess I filled out all those scholarships for no reason at all

Because my guidance counselor’s moaning and shuffling down the hall.

As soon as I pulled into school, I knew something was up.

There was a dismembered hand clawing its way out from under the shop teacher’s truck.

That was weird enough,

but then I slipped in a pile of pink chewed-up guts.

I stained my brand new Chucks.

And yeah, that pretty much just sucked,.

When the situation became clear,

I unlocked my trunk and pulled out my gear.

Funny how my parents wanted to send me to a therapist

when they found out I was a zombie-obsessed survivalist.

My pack was light and contained five things to get me through:

duct tape, Altoid cans, a flashlight, lighter, and a copy of Zombie Haiku.

In full stealth-mode, skirting the outside of the building,

I made my way to a place where I knew there’d be a way in.

Mr. Jenkin’s room had a large enough window

and he always left it wide open to maximize air-flow.

The dim room cast a black silhouette

of the rising sun’s rays playing off the surface of my target.

Dropping my bag through the window softly,

I pulled my body through carefully.

Mr. Jenkins never let us eat in his class, but after locking the door

and making sure the window latch was secure,

I gazed at his mini-fridge gleaming in the daylight.

I decided to stop for a bite.