Saturday, January 8, 2011

Thomas Hardy Zombie

with apologies to Pete


Radiation from the Archbishop of Canterbury's cell phone

Wakes Thomas Hardy Zombie from his rest.

He emerges,

Crosses himself,

Genuflects,

Then eats the Archbishop's worthy brains.



Thomas Hardy Zombie shuffles out of Westminster Abbey.

He needs a men's clothier.

He needs a haberdasher.

He needs to get on the tube.

In London,

No one speaks English,

No one is actually from there,

And no one gives a fuck about you, or your stupid Wessex, either.



Thomas Hardy left his heart in Stinsford, next to Emma.

He sits on the underground train,

Unable to read the map on the opposite wall, because of the pregnant woman,

The war cripple,

And the noisy group of drunken Germans,

All standing in front of where he is seated.

Must the Germans cook everything in beer, thinks Thomas Hardy Zombie,

Even their noodles?

The thought makes his stomach turn over,

And he belches loudly.

"Pardon me," mumbles Thomas Hardy Zombie, mortified.

His elegant Victorian manners remain largely intact.



Because he is a zombie, his mind is fraught with hellish nightmares:

The Welsh.

The Irish.

Worst of all, the Scots.

He moans.

To settle himself, he decides to compose a love poem.

As the train clacks and jostles, the great writer considers his task, and what sentiments,

Which natural wonders,

What unforgettable bucolic setting

Should he choose?

He begins to write:



brains
brains
brains
eat brains!



He pauses, to review.

Not exactly "A Saturday afternoon in November was approaching the time of twilight", but

It's something down on paper,

Something to tidy up and work from.



Getting off the train, Thomas Hardy Zombie forgets the recorded warning to "mind the gap",

And his leg goes straight down between the car and the platform,

Snapping off like a moldy twig.

He is stampeded over by students and smartly-dressed young businesswomen,

All of them wearing a dizzying array of greys,  blacks, and charcoal.

One of them dares to wear a red scarf,

And is thundered over without regard, as well.



Thomas Hardy Zombie hops, one-legged, to the escalator.

This presents a problem, so he stops.

A group of Japanese,

Then a small pod of Indian techno-nerds

Trample him from behind.

The fragile, long-dead (and living dead) poet is ground to dust under their heels.

With that,

The President Of The Immortals had ended his sport with Thomas Hardy Zombie,

And his final work goes unfinished.



Humbly, I complete it here:

brains
mmm, brains
brains
brains
brains


(You're welcome.)

________

11 comments:

Shadow said...

so's the life of a poet, heee heee heee

hedgewitch said...

Pet Semetary of the Victorian Poets...you've managed to resurrect Hardy and destroy modern civilization quite handily here at the same time. I think he'd approve.

Lynn said...

I'll never think of Thomas Hardy the same way again. :)

TALON said...

I've never thought much of zombies...but you've made me actually sort of like them.

La Belette Rouge said...

You are so damn funny and brilliant and genius and I don't know how I have survived these weeks without my daily dose of Tiger-friend brilliance. As synchronicity would have it I just had a conversation with someone about going to Costco on a weekday( when the non-working are there) and was struck by how many Zombies were there. It was alarming to see Zombies buy rotisserie chicken. I thought they lived on human flesh.
LOVE this one, Tiger-friend! You are BRILLIANT!!!!!!!!xoxo
Your,
Weasel-friend

moondustwriter said...

Shay
I am on the floor holding my sides

Germans cooking in beer steins
Poet trampling Japanese

can it get any better
oh yes because you are after all Fire Blossom

A fire lighting the the way for zombies and such

I like his final poem very much

wonder if that's where Poe found the telltale heart with Emma

ok I'm leaving - now sick from laughter

Lulú said...

I like where he pauses to review, only two words (ha!)...but they say it all. Mmm, they do.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I especially love the completed version of brains brains mmmm brains........you are SO hilarious!

MartyrMom said...

Nice way to pay Thomas the poet a tribute...quite amusing!

ellen abbott said...

very clever Shay. I laughed.

Mama Zen said...

The debt owed to you by society just grows and grows!