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.