Missie and Base

The Story of Missie


Missie was a Punk Rocker
With tickets to the show-
Decked out in her finest digs
She was all pumped up to go.

To the club along the way
She wasn’t feeling right-
Her arm was throbbing from today
When she got in a crazy fight.

She didn’t have a blackened eye
Because she wasn’t hit-
For once her face was completely fine
But her freaking arm got bit!

But Missie was going out tonight
Bleeding arm or not-
Once she was there she’d feel alright;
Why is it suddenly so hot?

At the show and all alone in a bathroom stall
Now the place feels freezing cold-
And lying limp against the wall
Sickly pale under her makeup she’s a sad sight to behold.

Shivering painfully all the way to bone
Missie didn’t feel it when she fell upon the floor-
The world went black with the fading echo of her moan;
Her heart and breathing slowed until they simply were no more.

Dying in the Lady’s Room of a kick-ass, rockin’ show
With people barely noticing- thinking that she’s drunk.
She’d be very pleased with “such a hard-core way to go.”
If she could comment Missie’d say her death was oh so “punk.”

Too bad she couldn’t stay that way
A corpse upon the ground-
She’d paid to see a live band play
So she stumbled towards the sound.

She headed right towards the surging mass of fans
Struggling to coordinate her clumsy legs & feet-
Discovering again how to move & use her hands
Suddenly these people smelled like some kind of yummy treat!

“Did I have dinner before I left?” She struggled to recall
Ravenous she could not resist this dancing meat buffet-
Before she knew it she was feasting: trying to eat them all!
The music stopped and people screamed and tried to run away.

Dead and hungry and all bloodied up, walking from the show-
Still in her best digs she’s all dressed up without a place to go.
That band that should’ve been so kick-ass had really been a bummer

And Missie is now A Punk Walker
Who killed & ate the drummer.


*To read about how she was done, see image #1*