Hi, my name is Lisa and I want to tell you when
My best friend Britney saved my life, again.
I used to work the night shift at Motel 666,
Checking in the working kids, and ignoring their tricks.
At noon-and-a-half two weeks ago I was home with the drapes pulled tight,
Not knowing that the mutant meteor had crashed some time in the night.
Papa was the first, caught the fever in San Antone.
By the time he was back in Austen he was raging skin and bone.
Drove the truck across the yard into the sycamore,
Then tore Mama’s throat out when she met him at the door.
She screamed and screamed and finally stopped but by then I was out of bed.
Wandered down to the kitchen to find Papa chewing on Mama’s head.
I threw a pot, a couple pans, then all the knives in a steel barrage,
But nothing could stop my Papa, so I ran for the garage.
He musta smelled fresh meat now that Mama was all done,
And he shambled after me, slow and steady but no run.
The tools were all hung snug and safe by Pa,
Which made it super easy for me to find the chainsaw.
Zombie Dad never saw her coming or if he did he didn’t care.
The Husqvarna took his head clean off and cut halfway through a chair.
She’s fast, she’s furious and she’s anything but neat,
But she’s all that stops me from sucking brains and shuffling feet.
My chainsaw’s name is Britney and she’s my BFF.
Her teeth are sharp, she’s all gassed up, and her roar has made me deaf.
But without her I’d be a zombie, like my dear Papa,
Or lying in blood on the kitchen floor just like my dead Mama.
Tim Reynolds is a Canadian twistorian, bending and twisting history into fictional shapes for sheer entertainment. His stories range from lighthearted fantasy to turn-on-the-damned-lights-now horror. His latest publishing credits include a tale of a dying folk singer’s moments teaching Death a love song, and a dark and depressing view of the near future of reality TV and child-rearing. He can be found online at www.tgmreynolds.com.