ZOMBIE DES REFUSES: THE CHILDREN’S ROOM

Today, we leave the children with the zombies. Children and zombies are natural companions! They love to run, and zombies love to chase! Oh young, tender brains . . .

Make sure to have a shamble through the American Classics Room and the Shakespeare Room . . . and to get your entries in by THURSDAY! That’s tomorrow! The ZOMBIE IDOL FINAL is coming!

Harold and the Purple Crayon by Crockett Johnson
K. Fall

One evening, after thinking it over for some time, Harold decided to go for a walk in the moonlight.

There wasn’t any moon, and Harold needed a moon for a walk in the moonlight.

The moon drew out a hungry zombie.

Harold needed to run away. And he needed something to run on.

He made a long straight path and off he went, taking his big purple crayon with him. And the zombie followed.

It was a terribly frightening zombie. Harold was scared. His hand holding the purple crayon shook.

Suddenly he realized what was happening. But by then Harold was over his head in an ocean.

Harold swam for his life. And the moon swam with him.

The zombie could not swim. He was drawn down to a watery grave.



It will get worse before it gets better, Harold.

The Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum
L. Anderson

“We’re off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz!” sang Dorothy, Scarecrow, Tinman and Lion, as they skipped gleefully along the yellow brick road.

As they skipped along they could see a figure on the road in the distance, and as they got closer, they could see it was a zombie, in tattered shorts.

“O, aren’t you cute!” said Dorothy, “And what do you want from the Wizard of Oz?”

“Brains…” murmured the zombie “Brains!”

“Sorry, we already have one of those. You’ll have to wait till next time!” said Dorothy.

“We’re off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz!” sang Dorothy, Scarecrow, Tinman and Lion, as they continued skipping gleefully along the yellow brick road.




Suddenly, the lions and tigers and bears weren't so impressive anymore.

The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis
K. Sanger

A moment later the stranger came out from behind the tree, glanced all around as if it were afraid someone was watching, said "Hush," made signs to them to join it in the thicker bit of wood where it was standing, and then once more disappeared.

"I know what it is," said Peter, "it's a beaver. I saw the tail."

"It wants us to go to it," said Susan, "and it is warning us not to make a noise."

"I know," said Peter. "The question is are we to go to it or not? What do you think, Lu?"

Of course, they had already said too much. The beaver was quite serious when it told them to "hush." For out of the wood came a zombie. It wasn't one of the nice slow, zombies, no, but a rather fast one. It rushed the four children and ate their brains before they even thought to shout for help - it being hard to think about shouting for help once one's brain has been eaten.


THE DR. SEUSS ROOM


The Cat In the Hat Comes Back
By my Secret Brother Tom

"Oh-oh!" Sally screamed,
"Don't you talk to that cat.
That cat, the undead one,
That cat with nine hats.
He'll go through nine more,
If we let him come near.
You know what he ate
Just inside Mother's ear."


Green Eggs and Ham
A. Holder

I do not like them in a box.
I do not like them with a fox.
I do not like them in a house.
I do not like them with a mouse.
I do not like them here or there.
I do not like them anywhere.
I do not like green eggs and ham.
I do not like them, Sam I a—

Me like green eggs.
Me like green ham.
Me like eat brains
Of Sam I am.



The Sneetches
Theo Black

Now the Scar-bellied Zombies had bellies with scars.
The Brain-bellied Zombies had none upon thars.
The scars weren't so big; they were really quite small.
You would think such a thing wouldn't matter at all.
But because they had scars, all the Scar-bellied Zombies
would brag, "We're the best kind of Zombies on the beaches."

With their limbs in the air, they would limp and they'd choke,
“We'll have nothing to do with the brain-bellied folk."
And whenever they met some, when they were out hunting,
they'd lumber right on past them without even moaning.

When the little Scar-bellied dead went out to feed,
The Brain-bellies were never allowed to join in and fill their need!
You could only feed on flesh if your bellies had scars,
and the Brain-bellied dead had none upon thars.

When the Scar-bellied Zombies had human parts roasts,
or picnics or parties or blood toasts,
they never invited the Brain-bellied Zombies.
Left them out cold in the dark of the beaches.
Kept them away; never let them come near,
and that's how they treated them year after year.

Then one day, it seems, while the Brain-bellied Zombies
were moping, just moping alone on the beaches,
sitting there, wishing their bellies had scars,
up zipped a vampire in the strangest of cars.

"My friends, " she announced in a voice clear and mean,
"My name is Larissa McMakki McBean.
I've heard of your troubles; I've heard you're unhappy.
But I can fix that; I'm the fix-it-up chappie.
I've come here to help you; I have what you need.
My prices are low, and I work with great speed,
and my work is one hundred per cent guaranteed."

Then quickly, Larissa McMakki McBean
put together a very twisted and demonic machine.
Then he said, "You want scars like a Scar-bellied Zombies?
My friends, you can have them . . . . for three skulls each.
Just hand me your heads and climb on aboard."

They clambered inside and the demonic machine hissed.
It slashed. It whipped. It laughed and It jerked.
It cut and it cut, the thing really worked.
When the Blain-bellied Zombies slid out, they had scars!
They actually did, they had scars upon thars!

Then they yelled at the ones who had scars from the start,
"We're exactly like you; you can't tell us apart.
We're all just the same now, you snooty old smarties.
Now we can come to your human parts parties!"

"Good grief!" groaned the one who had scars from the first.
"We're still the best Zombies, and they are the worst.
But how in the world will we know," they all frowned,
"if which kind is what or the other way 'round?"

Then up stepped McBean with a very sly wink, and she said,
"Things are not quite as bad as you think.
You don't know who's who, that is perfectly true.
But come with me, friends, do you know what I'll do?
I'll make you again the best Zombies on beaches,
and all it will cost you is ten skulls eaches.

“Body scars are no longer in style, " said McBean.
"What you need is a trip through my messed up botox machine.
This wondrous contraption will take off your scars,
so you won't look like Zombies who have them on thars."

That handy machine, working very precisely,
removed all the scars from their bodies quite nicely.
It cleaned them all up and they still looked dead.
They spoke expressionless and sounds came from each head,
"We now know who's who, and there isn't a doubt,
the best kind of dead are Zombies without."

Then, of course those with scars all got frightfully mad.
To be cut up now was frightfully bad.
Then, of course old Larissa McMakki McBean
invited them into her botox machine.
Then, of course from then on, you can probably guess,
things really got into a horrible mess.

All the rest of the day on those wild moaning beaches,
the Fix-it-up-Chappie was fixing up Zombies.
Off again, on again, in again, out again,
through the machine and back round about again,
still paying skulls, still running through,
changing their scars every minute or two,
until neither the Perfect- nor the Scar-bellies knew
whether this one was that one or that one was this one
or which one was what one or what one was who!

Then, when every last skull of their skulls was spent,
the Fix-It-Up-Chappie packed up and she went.
And she laughed as he drove in her car up the beach,
"They never will learn; no, you can't teach a Zombie!"

But McBean was quite wrong, I'm quite happy to say,
the Zombies got quite a bit smarter that day.
That day, they decided that Botox and dead flesh looks very much the same.
Both are lifeless and that is what's best, regardless of name.

All the differences were all in their head
Because at the end of the day they all looked dead.