The Twelve Days of Christmas Horror

Here we are on the fourth day of Christmas, with a hefty slice of indigestion and plenty of feasting days left to go! In order to sustain us all through the jollity and over-indulgence, I have cobbled together this slightly altered version of one of the best known Christmas Carols. I'll just write the final verse, I'm sure you can work out the rest...

On the twelfth day of Christmas a psycho sent to me;

Twelve zombies chomping,
Eleven goblins hissing,
Ten ghouls a-shambling,
Nine spiders scuttling,
Eight ghosts a-haunting,
Seven mermen swimming,
Six vampires flying,
Five enchanted rings,
Four howling wolves,
Three Big Foots,
Two beasts from the deep,
And a severed head in a pear tree!

There you go, Merry Christmas!

A Christmas Gift To You

'Twas the Night Before Christmas

by AFR Pearson (after Clement Clarke Moore)

‘Twas the night before Christmas,

And all through the flat,

Not a creature was stirring,

Not even Old Cat.

The children were sleeping

And dreaming of toys,

When from downstairs’ garden

There came a loud noise!

They ran to the window

To gawp and to stare.

You never could guess

What the children saw there.

The kids’ mouths dropped open

Like a pair of such fools.

The first thing they noticed

Was a pile of tools.

There were hammers and set squares,

Shaped like a “T”,

But what were they building?

Oh, what could it be?

At the base were some wheels,

Getting ready to run.

At the top was a star,

Shining bright like the sun,

And there in the corner,

As plain as could be,

The neighbours had built

A great big Christmas tree.

The children breathed deeply

And tried not to panic.

A Christmas tree robot!

This fir was mechanic!

The children put coats on,

Waved ‘bye to Old Cat,

Crept past their mum’s bedroom

And snuck out the flat.

As they stepped out the door,

Their teeth started to chatter,

But they braved the cold night

To see what was the matter.

As the lift travelled down

The kids heard a loud whirring.

They shouted together,

“The tree must be stirring!”

By the time the lift stopped

And they’d reached the ground floor,

The Christmas tree stood

In the garden no more.

The Christmas tree robot

Rolled off down the street,

With the kids in pursuit

On their small, slippered feet.

Through that Christmas Eve night

The tree rolled and it whirred.

The kids were surprised

That nobody else stirred.

As the robot moved on,

The night soon became foggy.

Then the children heard clearly

The miaow of a moggy.

Then more cats miaowing,

Each a poor little stray.

Just what was occurring?

The kids just couldn’t say.

They followed the tree

And it soon became clear.

That the robot tree paused

When each cat did appear.

It would bend down it’s branches

And then, just like that,

Before you could blink

It would pick up the cat.

The kids were dismayed.

Oh, such dark thoughts were brewing!

Just what could the Christmas Tree

Robot be doing?

An answer appeared,

With the force of a punch.

Was the tree finding felines

To eat for it’s lunch?

But so many cats

Were now sat in the tree,

The kids knew it hadn’t

Had many for tea.

And then with a “sproing!”

The tree’s actions changed.

It lifted it’s branches

And it looked quite deranged.

And into each house,

Be it mansion or flat,

If a cat would find love there,

They were given a cat.

The kids followed behind

Till they knew without doubt,

That each stray had a home,

Not one cat was left out.

They went back to their block,

And up to their floor,

And home to the sound

Of their mum’s noisy snore.

They went to their room

In their warm homely flat,

And looked out the window

While cuddling Old Cat.

And there stood the robot,

A branch up and stretching,

With a small kitten on it,

So cute and so fetching.

The kids opened the window

And shouted with joy

“We’ve got a new kitten!

That beats any toy!”

Old Cat was delighted

And as for their mum,

As soon as she saw it,

She tickled its tum.

Although it had started

With a bit of a fright,

Everybody found joy

On that Christmas Eve night.

So do not be scared

If this Christmas you see

A gigantic robot

That’s shaped like a tree.

It won’t try to eat you.

It won’t go berserk.

It’s happy to roll around

Doing good work.

And the kids heard their neighbours,

Who had caused the delight

Say “Merry Christmas to all,

And to all a good night!”

In Which I Am Pleased to Have Made Some Paper Zombies

(This post is best read in the voice of Dr Frankenstein, or your favourite mad scientist)

I did it! I made them! I made them all!

I nearly cut my finger off, but that didn't stop me!

Stupid pointy little feet!

So what if his arms fell off again. They stayed on long enough for this picture, didn't they?!

His stupid head wouldn't stay together! Aaaarrggghhhhhh! But I stuck it together. They've all been made! All the paper zombies! Mwah ha ha ha haaaaaaa!!!!!!!! And now? Now I'm going to throw them all into the recycling bin so that I never have to see their evil looking faces ever, ever again!!!

HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Fine Art of Putting Things Off

Today I would like to offer you some tips on the fine art of prevarication, postponement and putting things off. What, I hear you ask, could dear Momento Maureen possibly have to put off in this run up to Christmas-tide? Well, Beautiful Reader, allow me to tell you.

Cast your mind back to August, when I took part in Momento Maureen's Fantabulous Week of Challenges. One of those tasks was to make a zombie army from my Fold-Your-Own-Zombie calendar. I had expected it to be fun, but actually it was a nightmare of glue, sticky tape and tiny bits of paper.

It nearly broke me.

Well, I have managed to do exactly what I told myself I wouldn't. I haven't made another bloody paper zombie since. Now I have four of the little bastards, still in their 2D form, mocking me.

December is slipping through my fingers, it seems unlikely that I'll do it in Christmas week and I want them out of my life before 2014 hits. That gives me a week.

Now really I should just sit myself down and get on with it. But I know it's not going to be fun, and I don't like doing things that aren't fun.

So, instead I have written this blog post. You see, the best way to put things off is to do other things instead, things that really are quite useful, so you feel like you're being productive. I remember my tutor at university telling me that when she was meant to be writing up her PhD thesis she actually found herself ironing her flatmate's sheets. I'll probably do the washing up in a bit, maybe wrap some Christmas presents, perhaps think through what my New Years Resolutions should be. I'm even considering starting a new blog in which to chart my rise to mental health (fingers crossed) so that this one can stay a bit more purely zombified and joyous. I'll definitely try and make all the sentences in this post that little bit longer than is strictly, if you think about it, absolutely necessary.

But next time I post here there will be the remaining members of my zombie army (probably), and then I might just burn all the little shits.

Where have I been?

I have decided to explain why I haven't posted here for a while in the style of Yann Martel's The Life of Pi, but shorter and with fewer tigers. I'm going to give you two reasons and you can decide which one you like the best. Okay, it's only very loosely in the style of The Life of Pi, but just go with it.

Story 1:
I haven't posted here for a long time because I've been having problems with anxiety. I've had anxiety problems my entire life, but most of the time I cope with them really well. Unfortunately, sometimes I don't cope so well. In those times I find it hard to go out and do anything without having a panic attack. I have to confine myself to seeing one person at a time and find it a challenge to be in larger groups, especially if it involves meeting new people. For the last month or so I've been doing my best to make sure I get out of the house every day and check my emails and facebook reasonably regularly so as not turn into a complete hermit, but sometimes I just need to curl up on the sofa, where I feel calm and safe.

I finally went to the doctor about it and she was really lovely. She didn't make me feel like I was making a fuss about nothing, and we had a really nice chat. I've got an appointment to talk to someone from Ealing Improving Access to Psychological Therapies (the not-very-catchy IAPT). The first stage is a phone interview, which I am feeling a bit stressed about, of course, but at least it means I don't have to go to a strange new building. I'm feeling good for having done something about it.

I also decided that I was just going to tell people what's going on for a change, because lots of people have problems with anxiety and depression, yet it's still quite hard to talk about and kind of embarrassing. That just adds a whole extra level of stigma that causes further distress. Reading stuff by Jenny Lawson at http://thebloggess.com/, who has far worse problems than I do and yet is hilariously funny and really good at regularly updating her blog, made me feel a lot better about myself, and maybe if we could all be a bit more open and a bit more accepting, life would be a bit better for everyone.

Story 2:
I haven't posted here for a long time because there has been an outbreak of Zombiism in London and I have spent the last month or so, chopping, shooting and stomping zombie brains as part of a local fight back.

The problem started on a Monday morning, when everyone was looking quite tired and worn out by the weekend, and it was hard to tell who was infected and who just really didn't want to go back to work. The government sent in the army, who confined the undead to South Acton Estate and then sealed the entire estate shut. It was up to the surviving residents to join together and wipe out the zombie hoard once and for all.

We formed a small militia, making sure that no one was ever on their own, and systematically swept through the estate, using cricket bats, lead pipes, school-kid catapults and anything else we could find to kill the zombies before they could make us one if them.

We put people with mobility issues in charge of surveillance, making sure they were nice and safe in the highest tower blocks. We got the mothers and fathers of large families to cook up big nutritious meals for us all, and made sure that everyone got their fair share.

It took some time, and real organisational skills, but eventually we did it. South Acton is zombie free and the army finally took down the barricades and unblocked our internet access so that I could post on my blog once again.

One of those stories is real, the other one isn't. I leave it to you to decide which one.