Part 3: Conclusion. (Text recovered from The Incomplete Undead Handbook)


(Found on the bloodied person of one G_____ Brother, deceased)

1 week after infection:

We have heard news that mutinous
pockets of resistance have refused
to accept the new world order.
Indeed, a community of mistreated
magical creatures has emerged;
it’s the greatest thing to rise
from this disaster of pandemic proportions
since the Phoenix died
(but then was like, “Just Kidding!”).

It seems as if the infection has brought
both the villainous and heroic closer together;
previous adversaries befriended each other
to defeat an even greater enemy.
Unfortunately, not every rebellion was lucky enough
to survive the biting army
of Ugly Undead Princesses (& Friends!).
Besides certifying that the previous title
may be the worst children’s tv show in history,
we’d like to take this time
to honor our fallen compatriots
in their efforts to bring about a peaceful ever after.

The big bad wolf holed himself in the pig’s brick house,
narrowly evading a starving band of walking dead
hot on his hind legs.
For the swines’ hospitality,
the wild dog decided to finally
use his powers to help feed
a hunger for good deeds.
After attempting to blow the doors UP
for 100 hours straight,
he collapsed from lung exhaustion;
however, his brave and selfless sacrifice
allowed the porcine bacon-in-waiting to escape.

Lady Ariel spent her days in Mermaid City,
hoping she would be safe from the plague underwater.
But the Night-Walkers somehow made it
to the deepest parts of the ocean
where even anglerfish fear to angle.
As the zombie horde slithered slowly to the city gates,
the Mermaid with Feet prepared to greet the Undead
with a trident in one hand and crab claws in the other.
Instead, while she slept on the eve of battle,
her flounder companion became infected
and munched on her neck for a midnight snack.
As Ariel awoke to silence the alarm clock attached to her jugular,
she accidentally rolled on top of her attacker,
crushing what passed as a brain the the fish’s tiny head.

In her final hours, instead of weeping
and waiting to perish,
the courageous, fiery mermaid teamed up with
Evil Ursula (who, contrary to aqualar belief,
was indeed very much alive,
but retired to morning radio
when Ariel’s voice rejoined its rightful owner).

Together the unlikely pair
broadcast the discovery the redhead had made
that destroying the brain was the only way
to defeat the plague.
The transmission ended with a heartfelt
apology from the octopus queen,
who was promptly relived of her
multiple appendages by a recently-turned
undead Ariel.

We regret the loss of Tinkerbell,
who fell to the infected appetites of Peter Pan’s shadow,
as well as Jack the Giant Killer,
whose hen decided to pay him back
for kidnapping her haploid offspring
with a beak to the cranium.

I realize now that we may not survive the Brain Biters.
Sure, there may be a rogue sprite wandering
the countryside causing mischief
every once upon a while,
but as a species we fairy tale creatures
are nearly extinct.

If we do not make it,
perhaps our stories will.
If there is indeed life after
The Age of the Unmentionables,
I can only hope they they may
take our warnings to heart
and read our lives as morals
to avoid our horrible, grisly fate.

END NOTE: I should mention that school is now in full swing once more. As such, the poetry to come will probably have much more to do with mad scientist laboratory experiments or the fantastic lives of kids than fantasies of the zombipocalypse. Still, it’s guaranteed to be an exciting school year, and I hope you’ll join me for the ride!

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