written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Showing posts with label zombies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label zombies. Show all posts

Saturday, 4 July 2015

Creeping On Midnight

Quick, it's creeping on midnight and I've a Saturday blog to write. Topic? Revenant...

Bloody hell! Get out of that one! No - wait, that's actually it, isn't it? Phew, lucky strike. Getting out of hell, bloody or otherwise and returning to whatever - that's the very essence of revenance, surely. (Checks dictionary just to make sure: one returned from the dead or from exile - probably French in origin...that figures!)

So what do we make of that?

Are we thinking reincarnation? Apparently it's making a comeback: "Life's a bitch and then you die get to do it all over again!" The Buddhist wheel and all that jazz.

Or zombies? Cue a plug for Zombieland (2009, directed by Ruben Fleischer), the funniest and my favourite zombie movie, starring Jesse Eisenberg, Woody Harrelson, Emma Stone, Abigail Breslin and Bill Murray (as himself).

Or the exile angle? Two of my favourite books are Homer's 'Odyssey' and Hardy's 'Return Of The Native' - and I've returned to both of them on more than one occasion. Highly recommended.

Or the tale of the time I gate-crashed the prestigious Revenant of the Year awards? The late and the great were gathered together on a night of high anxiety and I, the quick among the dead, was passing through this throng of wraiths, trying to get to the heart of the action but wary of the Groke. Just as I was pressing forward to see who was commanding all the attention on the grey carpet, who was leading the ghostly parade, the first rays of the rising sun fingered the palace of dust, and  methought it was time to move smartly on.

Quick. Today's poem, it's a little something not precisely on theme - return from the dead or from exile - but making a comeback (for want of anything else) from my early pages and descriptive of that death-in-life sensation bordering on near paralysis that can sometimes be induced from a too rigorous pursuit of the recreational...



Low
I'm closed in
with dank flowers
in a rank corner.

The sun,
my only mourner,
has fled to bed
leaving moonlight magic
to raise its silver head.

I'm sunk so low
I might be dead
or damned at best
to lie forever
at infernal rest.

Thanks for reading. Have an invigorating week, S ;-)

Saturday, 6 April 2013

MacScottish Play and the Zombies

00:00:00 Posted by Ashley Lister , , , No comments

 by Ashley Lister

This week's theme is jokes. I believe there are one or two jokes in the following play which was performed at the Dead Good Poets' open mic event yesterday evening.


MacSCottish Play and the Zombies

 EXT. A desolate moor near Sauciehall Street. Night.
SFX: thunderbolt & lightning. Three witches are centre stage. One of them holds a cat.

First Witch
When shall we three meet again?

Second Witch
What about next Tuesday, for the bingo? That would
be nice, wouldn’t it?

Third Witch
I have been visited by a prophecy of doom from my pussy.

First Witch
(to audience)
She means her cat.

Third Witch
My pussy has told me two things: First it has told me
the zombies are coming.

Second Witch
Ooh! That’ll be nice. Usually they just shamble
along seeking brains and eating people.

Third Witch
And, secondly, my pussy has told me that we will meet
with the nobleman, Lord MacScottish Play.

Second Witch
Ooh! A nobleman. How lovely. Will you be washing your
pussy before you meet him?

First Witch
(to audience)
She means her cat.

Third Witch
I don’t think there’ll be any need to wash my pussy.
He’s Scottish so he won’t be expecting that.
[beat]
Unless you’re talking about my cat.

Enter MacScottish Play and Banquo

MacScottish Play
Fandabidosi. Och aye the noo. Whit urr ye three ladies
daein' 'ere?




Banquo
[to audience/precise English]
Good evening. My name is Banquo and, for the remainder of
this play, until my untimely death at some point later in
this opening act, I shall be playing the role of the
translator for everything said by the noble Lord
MacScottish Play.

MacScottish Play
[angrily to audience]
Ye heckit Sassenach bastards.

Banquo
[to audience/translating]
Good evening English people. I admire and respect
your culture.

First Witch
All hail MacScottish Play, Thane of Cawdor.

Second Witch
All hail MacScottish Play, King of Scotland and slayer
of the Zombies.

Third Witch
(offering cat to MacScottish Play)
All hail MacScottish Play. Would you like to play with my
pussy?

MacScottish Play
Ah dinnae ken whit ye'r sayin’, yer dunderheided bitches.

Banquo
(translating)
The Lord MacScottish Play thanks you for your kind
greeting but he’s unsure why you’re calling him by these
grand titles.

MacScottish Play
(nodding)
Aye.

(points at Third Witch)
Pussy.

Third Witch
(offering cat to MacScottish Play)
Would you like to play with my pussy?

MacScottish Play
(stroking the cat)
Ah wid ower clap yer wee moggie. Aye.

MacScottish Play strokes the Third Witch’s cat.

Banquo
(to the remaining two witches)
What dark business is occurring here? These roads should
be safe for travellers like myself and my lovely Lord
MacScottish Play. He’s a Scotsman. He’s not used to being
accosted by wanton slatterns like yourselves. No offence.
Not unless one of you is trying to sell him smack or
something. No offence. Or unless one of you is his sister
propositioning him for sexual services. No offence. Or
offering him a munchy box. No offence. Or a deep friend
Mars Bar and neeps. No offence.
 
First Witch
We have been granted a prophecy. Zombies are going to
come.

Second Witch
I said: ‘that would be nice.’ Usually they only get to
shamble places and eat brains in these types of stories.
It must be very frustrating for them.

Banquo
(aghast – looking around)
Zombies here in Scotland? Brainless, empty shells of
soulless human beings, killing and consuming without any
thought or conscience? How will the zombies have a chance
against them?

Enter Zombie

First Witch
Here’s one. I told you the zombies were coming.

Second Witch
(disappointed)
He’s not coming. He’s just walking slowly.

Banquo
(to audience)
I’ve never understood why anyone would fear zombies.
They’re so slow moving and obvious it’s not like they’d
be able to sneak up behind someone and take them
unsuspecting and unawares.

Zombie attacks Banquo by sneaking up behind him – unsuspecting and unawares. Banquo dies.



Zombie
Brains. Must eat brains.

Zombie attacks Second Witch.

Zombie
Brains. Must eat brains.

Second Witch
Ooh! This getting eaten out isn’t as nice as I’d hoped
it might be.

Second Witch dies. Zombie attacks Third Witch.

Zombie
Brains. Must eat brains.

Third Witch dies. She takes the cat down with her when she falls. MacScottish Play produces a sword and stabs Zombie. Zombie dies.

MacScottish Play
(talking to the dead Zombie)
Ya bas. Ah wis plooter her moggie.

First Witch
Well done Lord MacScottish Play. You saved the world from
Zombies and stopped Scotland from becoming home to a race
of mindless, inarticulate violent types that are shunned
and feared by the rest of the free thinking world.

MacScottish Play
Thank f**k for that. We wuddnae huv wanted that tae
happen, wid we?


THE END