‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all ’round the block, the Zombies were shambling in a necrotic flock.
Normally, I was safe in my hi-rise coop; But some asshole had spilled some brains on the front stoop.
So instead of some Jazz and a champagne split, I popped Xanax and laid out the suicide kit.
When just outside, there arose such a clatter, and my window got suddenly smeared with grey matter.
I cranked open the panes, and what I then saw gave me Holiday wonder, and Christmas nausea.
For down on the street was an elf with a blade, killing every last zombie that Satan had made.
Her machete so gory in the blood-covered snow, I knew in an inkling it must be J-Bo.
She was covered in red from her tits to her toes, as zombies fell spasming in their death throes.
Her eyes how they twinkled, the zombies a’swarming, zombie heads a’flying, a small mountain forming.
The bran hungry fiends converged in a pile, and avalanched J-Bo, who spun with a smile…
Obscured for a moment, her small form unseen… then the writhing zombie volcano erupted in green!
And faster than zombies could ask for a brain, she slew them all, zombie skulls falling like rain.
A roll of her shoulders and a shake of her head, and I knew right away all the zombies were dead.
J-Bo spotted my window. As I raised up my hand, she shouted “Where’s my Christmas bonus, old man?!”
“I have it right here! A bargain’s a bargain!” I said, and threw out a fruitcake on her noggin.
Now Christmas bells ring, and my doorbell rings, too. I know that she’s out there, the ungrateful shrew.
When she gets bored and leaves, I’ll say with delight–