Mortis Macabre

A Horror and Writing Blog by Nick Thorn!

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Bug Smasher

People? They don’t like me

‘cause I like to squish bugs.

They think me unseemly

and deny all my hugs.

I smash bugs with hammers,

I stab bugs with nails.

I stick bees in blenders

and microwave snails.

I salt all the slugs,

and I burn all the ants.

I’d fillet a tarantula

if given the chance.

I dispatch all those insects

with such style and flair,

I tell you a mantis

had nary a prayer.

Butterflies? ButterFRIED,

all the moths crushed with glee.

And with me you will see

all the fleas run and flee.

‘Cause with me they shall be

decreed as debris

when they plea to be free

from the force of my knee

I take handaxe to thorax,

I'm the bug-killing king!

I make splinters of pincers

and tear off every wing.

Those pupa and larvae

will spend their nights wishing

I'll soon end my days

of squashing and squishing

They pray and they ponder,

“Dear insect God, why?”

They cower in fear,

and hope that I die.

When I rot in my coffin

they'll all do their worst.

So I figured it's best

to get my revenge first.

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A little late for instagram since I posted them on Facebook already, but here is my #spoopyyard for #halloween2021 #halloween #halloweendecorations https://www.instagram.com/p/CV-ncn_F8Ju/?utm_medium=tumblr

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Tiny Boxes: Robby

Such a keen little bowler, rest now Robby Burns. He slipped in the gutter, and never returned

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Cancel the Dance!

Stay out of the mines on this Valentine’s. Young couples, spend this night apart.

‘Cause if you meet Harry He may very well bury His pickaxe direct through your heart!

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Sorry Bruv

My brother was struck, not by a small truck, but instead by a fast moving car.

I should be depressed, but admit I’m impressed, that he managed to launch pretty far.

Despite Mom’s insistence, I admire the distance. And although my bro won’t grow old?

If it were competition, I’d intend to petition, that the driver should take home the Gold.

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Kitty Cat Kaiju

Kitty Cat Kaiju, 60 Stories Tall What’s gotten inside you? DON’T STEP ON THE MALL!

Kitty Cat Kaiju, whiskers big as logs. Is there nothing to stop you? You’ve ate all the dogs.

Kitty Cat Kaiju, the catnip’s run dry. We’ve developed a mech suit soon, dear cat, you’ll die!

Kitty Cat Kaiju, your purrs turn to fear! There’s nowhere to hide to! MECHAMOUSE IS HERE!

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Tiny Boxes: Nick

He rests down below. Here lies little Nick. His parents won’t miss him (he was kind of a prick).

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Concoctions

Martha is a witch who had a strange notion. “You know, it’s been months since I crafted a potion.” So she propped up her spell book, brought her cauldron to boil, used a frog broth for base, and some cod liver oil.

She tossed in a batwing, sixteen pairs spider legs, the hair of a leper, and four cock-a-roach eggs, one slimy eye (all gloopy and gloppy), a pinch of rat poison, and a brown wilted poppy.

Before setting the lid, she adds more things in: Intestines, live beetles, and strips of goat skin, ooey gooey fish guts, and cat bones (fresh ground), a spoonful of bile, and the ears of a hound.

She stirs up the liquid. She raises the temp. Then dunks in the gonads from a freshly-snipped imp. Soon the lid’s closed up tight; the simmering starts. The pot rumbles and grumbles. It gurgles and farts.

It simmers 12 hours - From one until one. Martha’s excited, “AT LAST! It is done!” She pops in a spoonful, her life grinds to a halt. Of the potion, the coroner said it “needed more salt.”

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Bank Job

Four figures in ski masks approach the lobby door. Once inside the leader shouts, “Everyone get on the floor!” His cronies leap upon the desks, “Stay down!” the leader hisses. A guard shoots off his pistol, but he sneezes, so he misses.

A masked thug pounces on the guard for a strongly forced assault. The remaining crooks move to the back and start to clear the vault. SWAT arrives and draws their guns, aiming rifles at the lot. When a laser lands on the leader’s chest, the thugs dive for the dot.

With leader saved, they run outside. Their pace grows ever brisker. Leader removes his ski mask, as well as half a whisker. They get back to the alley, hide the loot, and start to purring. Helicopters zoom right past them, blades in the distance whirring.

When asked, the tellers tell police, they never will forget it. Robbed by felines? Wait… what the hell? They were cat burglars. Get it?

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Every Town

Brown hat, tattered sweater, Blade-tipped glove of leather; You better pray you do not fall asleep.

For if you do, get ready. Cause if you run into Freddy? You won’t last one night on his  street.

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Tiny Boxes: Jim

Not strong at ice skating here lies Jim Mahoney. Managed to skate underneath a zamboni.

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Run Privilege Diagnostic

It’s important to remember, that to robots there’s two genders. I understand the weight that this can carry

But this thought is universal, and hardly controversial, since all robot thought is processed in binary.

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Naughty

Remember this Yule to follow the rules. Don’t give in to sin or be silly.

Cross the man dressed in red? You’ll find yourself dead. “So naughty,” says axe-wielding Billy.

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Tiny Boxes: Judy

Here lies little Judy. She was God’s little flower. Running late for school and dried her hair in the shower.

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Aquatic Accomplice

My fish tells me to kill people Well… of course he’s never “said” But I can sense by how he swims that he wishes someone dead.

At first it was the mailman; my fish swam up and down. So I grabbed the civil servant and bashed him on the crown.

I’m not at fault I promise, Don’t judge - I see you wincing. My fish was quite insistent … he can be most convincing.

Like when my wife came home and saw the mailman’s corpse. I didn’t want to kill her, but my fish denied remorse.

My wife began her wailing, and the fish began to glub. I chased after my beloved and smashed her face in with a club.

Before I could react that fish had shook his fin. So I walked into my church, and I did the choir in.

Solemnly I ventured home, sat down bloodied on my bed. I looked to find my fish belly up and overfed.

I cracked a smile, wished him well. At last, his bloodlust sated. I unlocked the door, I brewed a pot, sipped my coffee, sighed, and waited.

And now I tell my jury. If you seek justice, you should know: The true culprit pays for all his crimes in that fish fry down below.

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Tiny Boxes: Joseph

Our boy was dyslexic. Here rests Joseph Watts. Rode his bike into traffic since the sign just read “POTS”.