Product Description
Nobody Wants to Play With Zombie Jesus: An Unconventional Children's Tale is just that, unconventional. It's a story about what it's like to be excluded, for whatever reason, but told in a mildly subversive way and with a subtext that will hopefully appeal to adults as well . . . sort of like the Addams family.
I will warn you that this is a story not everyone will like. If the title upset you, chances are that the content inside is not something that you will enjoy.
* * * * * * * *
Here is an excerpt from "Nobody Wants to Play With Zombie Jesus":
When the boy woke up he was alone.
He turned over, sat up and moaned.
He had been laying on a pile of loose twigs and loose leaves.
Looking around, all he could see was the dark and the trees.
High above was the moon in the sky.
He was lost in the woods and he didn’t know why.
The boy ran his dirty fingers through his long dirty hair.
“Where am I,” he asked. The only answer the whisper of air.
The boy picked a direction and started to limp,
But he kept right on going. He wasn’t a wimp.
He limped through the thickets. He limped past the trees.
He crawled over logs. He limped through the weeds.
The light of the moon lit up his way,
But alone in the woods he still wished it was day.
He was lost in the woods with no friends and no phone.
He could cry all he liked but he was still all alone.
A wind was blowing through the branches and leaves.
He was getting colder and colder and was lost in the trees.
He could hear a dog that was barking somewhere off far away.
A cloud went in front of the moon and turned the world dark and gray.
But up ahead through the branches, like reaching fingers of trees,
A small dark house with a porch and a light could be seen.
He knew this place. It was the house of a friend.
He was cold. He was tired. But the nightmare would end.
The boy limped from the forest and onto the grass.
He stepped onto the porch and rapped on the glass.
A few moments later little Mary M. opened the door.
Light came out past her and across the porch floor.
“Where have you been?” Mary smiled and asked.
The boy smiled too. He was safe at last.
He limped forward slowly and into the light.
Mary flinched and stepped back at the sight.
“What happened to you?” Mary bemoaned.
“I got lost in the woods. I woke up alone.”
Mary looked at him sadly, her face now a frown.
A tear welled up in her eye and fell to the ground.
The boy moved forward and Mary stepped back.
She slammed the door in his face. The light turned to black.
The boy tumbled back in a clumsy lurch.
“You’re a zombie, Jesus! Get off of my porch!”
The boy sat there and looked at where Mary had been.
The dark curtained windows and the shut doorway in.
He sulked. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
He hadn’t asked to wake up in the woods at night.
I will warn you that this is a story not everyone will like. If the title upset you, chances are that the content inside is not something that you will enjoy.
* * * * * * * *
Here is an excerpt from "Nobody Wants to Play With Zombie Jesus":
When the boy woke up he was alone.
He turned over, sat up and moaned.
He had been laying on a pile of loose twigs and loose leaves.
Looking around, all he could see was the dark and the trees.
High above was the moon in the sky.
He was lost in the woods and he didn’t know why.
The boy ran his dirty fingers through his long dirty hair.
“Where am I,” he asked. The only answer the whisper of air.
The boy picked a direction and started to limp,
But he kept right on going. He wasn’t a wimp.
He limped through the thickets. He limped past the trees.
He crawled over logs. He limped through the weeds.
The light of the moon lit up his way,
But alone in the woods he still wished it was day.
He was lost in the woods with no friends and no phone.
He could cry all he liked but he was still all alone.
A wind was blowing through the branches and leaves.
He was getting colder and colder and was lost in the trees.
He could hear a dog that was barking somewhere off far away.
A cloud went in front of the moon and turned the world dark and gray.
But up ahead through the branches, like reaching fingers of trees,
A small dark house with a porch and a light could be seen.
He knew this place. It was the house of a friend.
He was cold. He was tired. But the nightmare would end.
The boy limped from the forest and onto the grass.
He stepped onto the porch and rapped on the glass.
A few moments later little Mary M. opened the door.
Light came out past her and across the porch floor.
“Where have you been?” Mary smiled and asked.
The boy smiled too. He was safe at last.
He limped forward slowly and into the light.
Mary flinched and stepped back at the sight.
“What happened to you?” Mary bemoaned.
“I got lost in the woods. I woke up alone.”
Mary looked at him sadly, her face now a frown.
A tear welled up in her eye and fell to the ground.
The boy moved forward and Mary stepped back.
She slammed the door in his face. The light turned to black.
The boy tumbled back in a clumsy lurch.
“You’re a zombie, Jesus! Get off of my porch!”
The boy sat there and looked at where Mary had been.
The dark curtained windows and the shut doorway in.
He sulked. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
He hadn’t asked to wake up in the woods at night.
