Saturday, 22 December 2012

Zombie Santa, A Free Ebook

I've been naughty, not nice this year, and the e-comic is right here to prove it! Behold the horror of Zombie Santa, a tale so terrible I had to do all the illustrations myself. I've linked a mobile-friendly version for your convenience.

Zombie Santa


Thanks to Byron Rempel for the inspiration, and Terry Diller and Deb Armitage for the ideas.




In an old wooden hut at the cold North Pole
Sat a jolly old man with a kindly soul
Putting things in a sack for the girls and boys
Bags of sweets, candy treats, and all sorts of toys



Mrs. Claus brought him soup in a great big mug
And some milk for the elves and a large round jug
Santa slurped down his soup and rubbed his tummy
And said, “Thank you, love, that was really yummy.”

He buttoned his coat and picked up the sack
And lifted it on to his strong broad back
The elves then got up and left the tables
And followed their boss outside to the stables

The reindeer were harnessed and ready to go
Rudolph's nose had already begun to glow
Santa sprinkled magic dust on the deer
Then said, “Come on, guys, let's get out of here!”

Elves opened the door and out flew the sleigh
Santa called, “Go, deer, up, up and away!”
He waved goodbye with a “Ho, ho ho!”
Everyone waved back as they watched him go



As they flew Santa saw the world whizz by
He waved to the airplanes in the sky
The pilots and crew smiled and waved back
And pointed at Santa's big, bulging sack

The sleigh stopped at houses where children slept
And into their homes old Santa crept
He stood up tapped the side of his nose
And landed inside, standing on tiptoes

Sometimes, people left out rum and pies
And treats for the deer that were very nice
Carrots and apples and sugar lumps
Dates and figs stuck together in clumps



Santa Claus left his gifts beneath the trees
Pinched his nose, disappeared as quick as you please
Reappeared standing back up in his sleigh
Then shouted, “Come on, up and away!”

He stopped and left presents as he always did
But at a certain house was a very strange kid
As Santa bent over to drink his rum
The kid sneaked over and bit his bum!

“Ow!” cried Santa, “my bum! Oh, the pain!
“Don't you ever dare do that to me again!”
He pushed the kid away but the kid just groaned
And lurched forwards, reaching, as Santa moaned

“You're not even getting coal in your sock!”
Cried Santa, who was now reeling in shock
Away from the kid, whose pale green face
Made him look completely out of place



In the cheery room with its decorations
And colourful illuminations
The stars on the ceiling, the wreath on the door
Approaching zombies covered in gore...

Santa pinched his nose, reappeared in his sleigh
Cried, “I'm not feeling well, now take me away!”
Poor Santa now felt a creeping chill
And said, “Oh dear, now I feel quite ill.”

A fever arose, made him sweaty and hot
And the pain was severe in a certain spot
In the sleigh seat, Santa cried and moaned
And writhed and sighed and wriggled and groaned

He finally stopped when an hour had passed
The reindeer thought he was finished at last
The poor old fellow appeared to die
But then he twitched and opened one eye



His eyes were pale and rimmed with red
And filled with the hunger of the undead
So once again he clutched the reins
And croaked “Go, Rudolph, I want brains!”

The reindeer looked at each other, then back
At the zombie in red, who searched through the sack
But all that was in there were piles of toys
Wrapped in pink for girls and blue for boys

“I know,” thought Rudolph, “I'll do us a favour
“I know what kind has got just the right flavour
“The brains of naughty kids will taste
“Better than good ones, let's not waste

“The talent and goodness of those who do right
“And go straight to sleep when they're told to, at night.”
So he turned sharp right and headed on down
To a house near the dump in a grubby old town



Where the Christmas tree was made of plastic
And the decorations weren't exactly fantastic
Where the father and mother had spoiled their child
Who had turned out to be all bratty and wild

Still awake, he was, at that late hour
He lurked with some eggs and a bag of flour
“I'll throw these at Santa,” he said with a smile
“And send him out on his way in style!”

A rotten heart and a darkened soul
That kid was annoyed about last year's coal
He hid behind the sofa to get
Revenge on Santa, the best gift yet

When Santa came, the trap was laid
With fresh mince pies and lemonade
Chopped apples, dates, and a little note
That said, “Ha ha ha, you stupid goat!”



But Santa didn't even look
Instead he reached around and took
A step towards the sofa where
The little brat had made his lair

He wrenched away the sofa, and
Said, “Come out now, my little man!
“I've got a big surprise for you
“You know you want it, yes you do!”

The sound of Zombie Santa's voice
Left the boy with little choice
But to drop the things and run
And cry, “Mom! Dad! Get out the gun!”

“What is it, Tommy?” his dad replied
“What is it, son, has someone died?”
“It's Santa, Dad! “and it is plain
“He's desperate to eat my brain!”



“Stop talking rot and go back to bed,”
The weary voice of his mother said
“There's no such thing as zombies, son
“There’s no need for us to get the gun.”

“But Dad! Dad! Dad! I am really sure
“Zombies are real and there is no cure
“I've hit him hard with your wooden cane
“But he's still here, trying to eat my brain!”

“Your weapons cannot save you now!”
Said Santa, “Now your brain's my chow!
“I'll dig my undead fingers in,”
He told the boy, with an evil grin

Poor Tommy kicked and screamed and wriggled
Santa's belly wobbled and jiggled
He opened his mouth and reached for the boy
But then, to Tommy's eternal joy



In walked his dad with a loaded gun
He said, “Hey Santa, you've had your fun
“Let my son go, he's not your lunch
“His little brain you may not munch!”

“But Mr. Smith, don't be too hasty
Said Santa, “Small boys' brains are tasty
“Come now, let us make a deal
“And Tommy, boy, there's no need to squeal.”

“I'll get it over with, nice and quick
“I'll bash your head in with a brick
“I'll eat your brain, and be on my way
“And make it a merry Christmas day.

“This bratty kid will be no more
“For once you'll have a clean, tidy floor
“No longer will he cause a riot
“This house will be peaceful, nice and quiet.”



Mr. Smith then let go of the trigger
And then began to laugh and snigger
At the nerve of the old fat man
Who held his son tight with his cold green hand

“I like the thought,” said Mr. Smith, “a lot
“But is that really all you have got?”
“In my sack,” said Santa, “are loads of toys
“But just for good little girls and boys.”

“That train set that you always wanted
“The book about the old house haunted
“The alien toys and all things sporty
“You never got because you were naughty.”

“Take what you want to, if I can feast
“On the brain of this nasty little beast.”
“No, Dad!” cried Tommy, “Let me live!
“Yes, I was bad but please forgive



“The things I did, I will do what's right
“From now on. Please save me tonight.”
“He sounds convincing, what do you say?”
Said Tommy's dad. “I can't give him away.”

But Santa just pinched his nose and went
Straight back to the sleigh, his patience spent
“I'm hungry, guys,” he told the deer
“Now please, let us go, get out of here.”

At another house, the kids were up late
They'd eaten the snacks off Santa's plate
He washed their brains down with the rum
And asked their mother, “Do you want some?”

She screamed and fainted, and fell to the floor
So Santa decided to have some more
“Oh, brains!” he said, with a sigh of bliss
“Why did no one tell me about this?”



“Delicious brains, straight from the skull
“Washed down with blood, my belly's full
“But when I go to another place
“Inside me there is an empty space.”

Santa continued his rounds that night
In many a home he caused a fright
And newly created zombies lurk
As a result of the old man's work

At the end of the night, he finally stole
Back to his home at the cold North Pole
Where Mrs. Claus and the elves all waited
With a tasty cake they had created

But the old fat man who then returned
In his red eyes, now hunger burned
He lurched, repeating this refrain,
“Come here, I want to eat your brain!”



“Help! Help!” cried Mrs. Claus, “Someone!
“Oh, how I wish that I had a gun!”
“You don't,” said Santa, “now you're mine!
“I'll wash your brains down with red wine.”

But Mrs. Claus gathered up her skirt
And ran like mad till her poor chest hurt
She locked herself in the storage cupboard
And wept and shook and wailed and blubbered

But Santa Claus grabbed a nearby axe
And hacked at the door with a good few whacks
The door was quickly smashed apart
And Mrs. Claus, with her hand on her heart

Said, “Oh, my dear husband, for my part
“I swore to stay till death do us part
“But it seems that now you have done your side
“And I can no longer be called your bride.”



She pushed him backwards with all her might
With newfound strength from her dreadful fright
She snatched up the axe from his cold hard grip
And swung it down from his head to his hip

Well Santa collapsed and fell to the floor
Cut in half right through to the core
His guts spilled out, began to spread
And all the elves in terror fled

“He was a zombie,” the lady said
“Come out, it's safe now that he is dead.
“But who’s going to do his Christmas chore
“Now that Santa Claus is no more?”

The elves came out and cleared up the mess
And Mrs. Claus cleaned the gore off her dress
Then they sat down together to make a plan
For how they’d replace the jolly old man



Well then, in a flash, the idea came
And settled inside Mrs. Claus's brain
“I'll do it myself, though I will look weird
“In my old man’s suit and a big false beard.”

So every year now, on Christmas Eve
As most kids now, these days, believe
Santa comes with gifts in his sack
To give to the kids who don't talk back

Who do watch out, and don’t ever cry
Who don’t make a fuss, or whine, or sigh
Who go to bed without objection
And rarely ever need correction

But there are kids who sometimes tell
A different story, and compel
Their folks to keep a loaded gun
And stay awake, prepared to run



In case the zombie Santa comes
And skips the pies and figs and plums
And chocolate drops and candy canes
To feast on naughty childrens' brains

The End


You're welcome to share it if you wish. All I ask is that you link to me and credit me for making it.

Merry Christmas!

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