The Ballad of the Zombie Pug

My owner tried to eat me. He weighs four-hundred pounds, you see.

At first, I just thought he was hungry, but it turned out he was a zombie.

My owner was trapped by his own weight, stuck in his reclining chair.

Thank heavens he couldn’t reach me, much to his despair.

It took me quite a while to realize his plight.

I’m a wee little pug and lack the ability to fight.

For three long days I sat and stared.

I must admit, I was way beyond scared.

Who was this strange green man who once fed me puppy chow?

And what the hell was I going to eat now?

I wasn’t the type of dog that could hunt for meat.

My food came in a can, and every day I’d get a treat.

But after my owner turned, my situation started looking dire.

The only food around was zombie meat, but his flesh I did not desire.

I gave up my morals after another hunger filled day.

I nibbled on my owner’s leg, much to his dismay.

He tried to snatch me and take a big bite,

But I’m a fast pug, and I scurried out of sight.

I fled into the dining room and hid under the table.

I felt satisfied with my small meal, finally feeling stable.

After my dinner of zombie flesh, I took a long nap.

I fell asleep instantly, but woke up feeling like crap.

I wanted… no, I needed meat,

So I crept back to my owner’s feet.

I was about to take a bite of his rotting flesh,

But I realized that I was craving something fresh.

I needed to eat living meat. Any kind would do.

I would even eat another pug. I know it’s sad, but true.

So I left my home as a zombie pug, searching for meat with my snout.

Finally, I was the hunting type. It’s funny how things work out.

What do you think?