It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Zombies
Read It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Zombies Online
Authors: Michael P. Spradlin
A Book of Zombie Christmas Carols
Illustrations by Jeff Weigel
To my family, Kelly, Mick, and Rachel,
who are definitely not Zombies…
“Good King Wenceslas tastes great, we might as well eat Stephen.”
It is universally acknowledged that there are very few literary pursuits which cannot be improved by the addition of Zombies, which are to the written word as cheesy goldfish crackers are to life in general; those little cheesy goldfish crackers also improve nearly everything. Don’t take my word for it—just bust out a bowl of cheesy goldfish crackers at the next funeral you attend and see if you don’t bring some smiles to the grieving. (Just to be safe, make it the funeral of some stranger on the off chance I’m wrong.)
Imagine how much more compelling
Hamlet
might have been had his father not appeared on the battlements as a ghost but as a brain-eating Zombie. Likewise, how poignant the love story if sweet, damp Ophelia had returned from her drowning in the brook to lay a licking to Hamlet’s medulla oblongata. Think how much easier a time wives today
would have getting their husbands to take them to the opera if Wagner had only included a few Zombies in his work. Or even a Zombie or two in an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical. (Wait. I’m not sure even Zombies would improve an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical). Even Charles Dickens seems to be overworked with ghosts and short of Zombies. Poor, rotting Tiny Tim having a nosh on Scrooge’s brain at the end of
A Christmas Carol
would surely warm the spirit as much as any Christmas goose. I mean, he had four ghosts in the story—couldn’t he have substituted at least one Zombie for a ghost? Come on, Chuck. ’Splain, please. Why is there no Zombie of Christmas Future?
And while we’re on the subject of Christmas and ghosts and other undead things, I firmly believe it was only a matter of time until someone conceived a book of Zombie Christmas carols. And Michael Spradlin is the ideal guy to do it.
And I can tell you why.
A few years ago, it was the same Michael Spradlin, author of the book you now hold in your hands, who approached
me
one day to write a funny Christmas book. (He was totally violating the restraining order, but we’ll let that slide for now.) He got up in my grille and was all, “You know, you ought to write a funny Christmas book.” And I’m all, “What kind of funny Christmas book?” And he’s all, “I don’t know, how about maybe
Christmas in Pine Cove
or something?” (For the uninitiated, Pine Cove is the fictional California town where many of my novels are set.) So I’m all back at him, “’kay.” So
I sat down to write my own version of the cheery holiday tale (mainly because I really don’t like to write when I’m standing up). But I wanted my holiday novel to be different. I didn’t want your traditional Christmas story of happiness and peace on earth and goodwill toward men. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.) But I pondered: How could I make my mine stand out? Then I remembered! What is it that makes every literary pursuit better? Zombies, of course! (See above.) Thus was born my novel
The Stupidest Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror
(available wherever books are sold, I’m just sayin’). Really, I’m not lying. All because Michael Spradlin got in my grille about shaking up the world of Christmas literature,
The Stupidest Angel
, the cheesy goldfish cracker of holiday novels, was born.
I was to later learn that this same Michael Spradlin, who is himself descended from a long line of the undead (think about it), had a deeper affinity for Zombies than I had even imagined. And now he has brought forth the world’s first Zombie Christmas carol songbook. Like collections of greatest hits you see on late-night television commercials, all the new soon-to-be classic Zombie holiday songs are here for you: “I Saw Mommy Chewing Santa Claus” “Zombie, the Snowman” “We Three Spleens” “Deck the Halls with Parts of Wally” and many more.
So as you and your family enjoy these holiday-spiced tidbits of animated carrion, imagine that you are not gathered around the table waiting for the credit-card bills to descend
like the war hammer of a vengeful Santa. Instead, you are all together, barricaded inside your house, stockpiling your supply of canned goods and preparing to fend off hordes of rotting carolers outside. And if one of you should be bitten, well, the more the merrier…
“Bring a hatchet for little Nell.
Or a nice pump shotgun will do her well.”
Happy Holidays!
Christopher Moore
It’s not a question of if.
It’s a question of when.
The swine flu. SARS. The Spanish Influenza of 1918—all walks in the park compared to what awaits us. I’m talking of course about the Zombie virus. Right now, scientists are working on the undead around the clock in secret government laboratories to come up with a vaccine for the dreaded bug. Personally, I don’t like their chances. And I should also mention that many of these secret government laboratories are located right in your own communities. (After all, Zombie scientists still need to send their children to good schools.) This is only going to cause the virus to spread faster when it breaks.
And it will break.
Their efforts are futile. There is no escaping the Zombie virus. So when the world falls down around us, when we’re forced to spend every waking (and sleeping) moment with machetes duct-taped to our hands, let us not forget our most sacred holiday traditions. Just remember that, in the Zombie age, our holidays will be different. Canned goods will become like cur
rency, so don’t look for any cranberry sauce on your Christmas table. In the post-Zombie apocalypse, a can of cranberry sauce will bring you at least two shotgun shells from the survivors in the compound across the river.
And you can forget about the traditional lighting of the Yule Log. Use it instead to smash a Zombie’s head in. There won’t be any time for ceremonies when there are Zombies scratching at your door. You won’t be hanging stockings, you’ll be wearing them for warmth. Yes, even those tacky ones you get at the mall with your name embroidered on them.
But one tradition that doesn’t need to change is the Christmas carol. It only needs to be altered slightly. And that’s why you’ve picked up this book—just to hedge your bets. Because when you are turned (and you will be turned), you won’t want to be shunned by all the other Zombies as they gather around a steaming pile of brains. You’ll want to know the words to all the Zombie Christmas carols so you can sing along with your new peeps. So pick up a copy. (Or better yet, two or three, since you’ll want everyone in your future Zombie family to be prepared.)
Good luck. Happy Holidays. And here’s hoping you won’t get bitten. Even though you probably will. And here’s one last bit of advice: When the virus breaks out and everything around you is going south, just look at the Christmas fruitcake in a new light. No one ever eats them and now you won’t need to re-gift them anymore.
You can take a Zombie’s head off with one of those suckers.
I saw Mommy chewing Santa Claus
Underneath the Christmas tree last night.
I snuck up without a peep
Behind Mommy, the Zombie creep,
Now she’s biting off Santa Claus’s cheek.
When I saw Mommy chewing Santa Claus
Underneath his beard now turning red,
Oh what a laugh we would have said
If Daddy weren’t already dead
While Mommy chewed on Santa Claus last night.
Up on the housetop, Zombies pause,
Eating poor old Santa Claus.
Down through the chimney come Santa’s parts.
Once a Zombie bites—ouch that smarts!
Chorus
Ho, Ho, Ho, better not go.
Ho, Ho, Ho, better not go.
Up on the housetop, snack, snack, snack.
Down through the chimney comes Santa’s back.
First comes the corpse of little Nell.
Oh, those Zombies bit it well.
Forget about a dolly that laughs and cries,
Zombies die first then open their eyes.
Chorus
Next the undead are stalking little Will.
Oh, just see he’s a glorious meal.
We use a hammer and lots of tacks,
And he has a brain and a spine that cracks.
Ho, ho ho! Who wouldn’t go?
Ho, ho, ho! Who wouldn’t go?
Up on the housetop, snack, snack, snack!
Down through the chimney with Santa’s back!