Baby, you've got to be
the prettiest dead girl
I ever did see. I mean
you're barely rotting and
you're clotting in all the
right places. Ah, ah,
don't bite, lovely girl;
be good and I might
fetch Mr. Tom next door.
He'll make a nice hors
d'oeuvre, an appetizing snack
for your pretty teeth
to crunch and--
Ack! Close one, greedy girl,
but these fingers are mine.
I'll go get some candles
and a well-aged bottle of wine:
A dark Merlot to go with
Mr. Tom's heart. There's an art
to cannibalism, you know.
So, how long have you been
a flesh-craving zom--
Ouch! Okay, I see,
sensitive topic; I shouldn't
have inquired. All this chatting
has fired up my appetite; I'll just
bind up this bite and go fetch
Mr. Tom, shall I?