Killer Pumpkins

Ba dump…ba dump…ba ba dump.

Bump…

Bump…

They roll.

They stroll

down the streets;

orange and angry.

Why do they roll?

Why are they not in bed,

with green leaves as blankets

To cover their orange ripply heads.

I suppose they’re pissed off

for being left behind

in the patch.

What the fuck was wrong

with them, they ask.

It’s Halloween and they’ve

waited long enough.

Knives in hand with

grins carved in,

ready to show

the little tricker-treat bastards

a real killer

pumpkin.

So they roll

and they stroll

down the street.

Ba dump.