Tina L. Jens is the author of more than 100 short stories published in mass market and small press venues, and the multi-award winning novel The Blues Aint Nothin': Tales of the Lonesome Blues Pub. She served as the editor and publisher of the Twilight Tales small press for ten years. Currently, she produces the Gumbo Fiction Salon reading series and teaches fantasy writing courses at Columbia College Chicago.
Martin Mundt has published one novel, Reanimated Americans, with Creeping Hemlock Press, as well as two collections of short stories, The Dark Underbelly of Hymns, originally published by Delirium Books, and The Crawling Abattoir, originally published by Twilight Tales - both re-printed in 2013 by Dark Arts Books. He also published the novella The Cranston Gibberer with Bad Moon Books. Seven of his short stories have received Honorable Mention in "The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror" anthologies. He may be found in cyberspace at www.martinmundt.com and on Facebook.
One Night at the Villa Dementia
Tina Jens and Martin Mundt
There once was an aardvark demure
He crept through dusky crepuscular
For his task was to visit
Sir Necrotic Despot
And deliver a much-needed cure
He stumbled against the front gate
In his haste to alleviate
But the Old Sir was crawling
And the Old Sir was bawling
Twixt the graveyard and Lake Ululate
It was well-known that stiffs swam in there
Loud corpses denied savoir-faire
They had lost their decorum
Lost graves' homey forum
When the Despot undug them from there
To be meat in his Cannibal's pot
This Fate was the lake-bathers' lot
They swam round and round
To tempt him to drown
But go under he simply would not
The aardvark needed to sneeze
And began to whiffle and wheeze
For the inside of his nose
Where the medicine goes
Could no longer contain it with ease
He frantically waved stubby paws
Necrotic never noticed at all
He was too busy chasing
A Miss butchered in Hastings
And he hoped to de-bladder her gall
The cure would soon tame such cravings
With the nose like a gun behaving
He wibbled and wobbled
And soon he had cobbled
A sneeze like a Bedlamite raving
In that package shot thirty days' doses
A more potent drug nobody knowses
From a nose to a mouth
Sir gulped it down south
And now in the lake he reposes
But Death brought no balm to the man
The stiffs had a cleverer plan
They hacked him and fed him
To the fishes that all swim
And then they went back where they began.
THE END