Ian Copestick

It’s Happening

It’s happening tonight in the local estate
It’s happening in the council houses
As people wobble home in an inebriated state
Fall asleep as they drop their trousers

The fog is licking at the windows
It’s sniffing at the doors
It’s sneaking through the keyholes
Bringing something not seen before

Escaped from hidden army base
Only a few miles out of town
Clean-up crew, to the scene they race
They’ve got to shut this fucker down.

In the estate, some people stir
Upon hearing an eerie growling
They see their loved ones covered in fur
Enjoying their disembowelling

Only a few houses could have been infected
At least, they hope that’s it
The inhabitants must be inspected
And dealt with as is seen fit

In the morning, the fog will be recovered
Several citizens  “removed ”
When their disappearance is discovered
The neighbours will simply be told, they moved.

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