Somewhere late this evening

Long past the stroke of nine

Those creatures lewd and vile

Will settle in to dine

They'll lick their putrid chops

With their gross and grimy tongues

As the fumes of tonight's menu

Fill their blackened lungs

They'll be sure to snap and snarl

And neglect the need for "please"

For "thank you", "pass the salt"

Are the words of lesser sleaze

They dig right in, and I dare say

They hardly even chew

They just gorge and puke and feast some more

Since that's what monsters do

They munch and scarf and nosh and gnaw

And slurp and sup and feast

Cooked or live, edible or not

It's all the same to beasts

They'll dine until the morning

Or until they simply burst

Their guts quite full of rats and moths

And four week old bratwurst

And if you find yourself invited

Just make certain you're not late

For you might just find yourself instead

Atop the dinner plate