The Haunted Haunted House

The house on the hill up the street

is a “Haunted House,” and it’s neat.

Is it scary? Very.

But no, not really scary.

We all shout and squeal,

but none of it ’s real.

They ’re grapes, of course, not eyeballs,

cold pasta for the brains,

cherry soda bubblin’ in the beakers.

The moans of the demon,

the thunder and screamin’,

all come out of stereo speakers.

At ten o’ clock exactly,

they shut down and close the door.

They pack up the brains and the eyeballs

and mop up the puddles of gore.

But now it ’s 10:15, and screams are coming still,

from the haunted Haunted House up on the hill.