The fires of Hell are like party lights,

The screams are music to his ears…

The acrid smoke is blissful to him,

And the pain brings him such joyful tears!

His past is a fondly held scrapbook

Full of murders and obituaries.

He never had friends or played games…

His hangout? The local mortuary.

The doctors, they couldn’t help him,

Nor the prisons keep him caged.

He started his path as a troublesome child

And only got better with age.

He owned his own Pet Sematary*

Full of the strays that he’d mangled…

The last one before he moved on to humans

A cat, with it’s own tail, had been strangled.

The first PERSON he chose was a hitchhiker,

The next was a Lady of the Night.

His only mistake was no mistake at all

-he chose a cop because he wanted a fight.

He served the Marines with “courage” and “honor”

(meaning he killed a lot of people for democracy);

Finished his duty in the psych ward on base

And laughed at his whole life’s hypocrisy.

He killed, and slaughtered, and killed some more,

Drank their blood and licked their tears,

Defiled their corpses and buried some live ones

-he was on a roll and he was in high gear.

But then came a Shadow that sparked his first fear,

weakened his knees and brought a low moan:

A TALL Shadow, but thin, seeming to wear a cloak,

Which flourished a walking-stick made entirely of bone.

The man, undefeated til now, gave a grin,

His fear anxiously drowned by his bloodlust;

Pulled a long, wicked-looking knife from his jacket,

And as he sprang at the Shadow, he started to cuss:

“You *BLEEPITY BLEEP BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP*

And the same goes for the kin of your mother!”

At least, that’s what he was going to say…

But that was not the plan of the Other.

Quick as a whip, the bone-stick swung ’round

Knocking the knife from the murderer’s hand.

A split second later the stick hit his throat

And it took him five seconds to land.

The man shook his head and focused his gaze

To find the Shadow turning away,

But HE had a trick or two of his own:

His life had been TRAINING for this very day!

A cobra couldn’t strike faster than he did

As he grabbed at the hard-to-see boot,

And the strength that matched the speed he displayed