I was working at a Council meeting late one night,
When my eyes beheld an eerie sight...
On the dias, sitting far to my right,
Mortimer Mummy was quite a fright.

He was wrapped in bandages that were hardly new,
Except for a spot where some bugs had eaten through.
His eyes were black holes in that hideous mask,
But I saw them glint as he stood up and asked:

"I'm 4,000 years old and a single day,
And this old body of mine's wasting away.
So I'm looking for a new one to house my ancient soul.
Is anyone here able to fit that role?"

He stared at me; a chill crept up my spine.
But at least this was better than the old Council grind.
Black maw agape as he drew very near,
The smell of tomb breath made me recoil in fear.

But then, a bright white light filled the air,
And Gregory Han's flesh seemed to disappear.
The light blinded me for a few seconds, and when it dimmed,
An ethereal being stood where Greg had been.

He must have been eight-foot tall and weighed 135,
With ghost white skin and shiny black eyes.
"I'm Han from the Planet Zhan," he announced without speaking.
"And I'm here seeking subjects for genetic tweaking."

He looked at me and said I'd make a nice specimen.
"We're changing humans into frogs, and then back again.
"I was saved when the full moon's light filtered into the room,
And Hugh O'Reilly started squirming, scratching and howling at the moon.

Hair sprouted from his hands and fingers and toes,
As I watched him change to a werewolf with long, snarling nose.
With one mighty leap, he pounced on a taxman,
Who'd come to the meeting instead of trying to fax Sam.

He hid behind the county tax law,
But the beast batted it aside with his massive right paw.
Into the man's gut, he buried his snout,
Dining on his prey before its life was out.

The sight was so gruesome, I couldn't bear to look.
But just then, the door of the Chambers rattled and shook.
The Wicked Witch Padovan flew into the room,
Cackling as she rode her electric broom.

Her face was green; she had warts on her nose,
And a big black bag full of potions and woes.
They steamed and sizzled and popped in their vials,
Many sizes and shapes and colors and styles.
One was marked "mosquitoes," another "jellyfish," another "spiders and lice,"
And another simply said "assorted pestilence and mice."

"I've run out of little boys and girls for my gingerbread home,
So I'm now taking adults, dogs and cats, and maybe a gnome."
As she mused over which of us to lure,
The Mayor, Uncle Festa, seized the floor.

At least he was human, or so it seemed,
And good-natured as far as monsters are deemed.
He lit a lightbulb in his mouth to announce an idea,
Then spoke to the Council in a voice loud and clear:

"I've been fooling around in my lab, and came up with a pretty good joke,
To play on the Rickenbacker Causeway toll booth folk.
It's a small thermo-nuclear timing device,
That will take care of their electronic toll system very neatly and nice."

I felt like pointing out to him that there wouldn't be any causeway either,
Or Key Biscayne, or Seaquarium theater.
But he was laughing madly like he'd had too many beers,
And sparks were shooting out of his ears.

Next to Festa sat the newest Councilmember, Martha Vampira,
Who'd originally lost an election last November.
Pearly white fangs creased her blood-red lips,
And when she spoke it sounded like the crack of whips:

"For 500 years I've been around,
From China to Peru and most other lands.
I've lived many lives and I'm proud of them all,
So from now on I want to be called:

Martha Ruiz Feristoplos St. Claire
Moncilovich Pellulo Haakensson O'Hare
Gillespie Hundermark Suzuki Proteck
Schwartz Chu Fernandez Leon Broucek."

There was power in her tombstone eyes that drew me near,
Till I could feel her icy breath on my front, sides and rear.
I tore myself away from Martha Vampira, and eased back to my seat.
And that's when I felt Betty Slime eyeing me like meat.

She was a zombie and rapidly decaying,
And had no interest at all in cost defraying.
She kept looking at me without blinking,
Which is natural when one has no eyelids for winking.

Around her shoulders lay a funeral wreath;
She said nothing to me, but kept gnashing her teeth.
Meanwhile, the O'Reilly werewolf was licking his chops;
What was left of the taxman could have been picked up with mops.

The werewolf wrinkled his nose and turned my way,
A bit of dessert would cap his day.
I broke off a few of Slime's fingers to toss to the beast,
And maybe distract him from his intended feast.

But he munched them like doggie treats and kept on coming,
Along with the rest of the Council, a sight which was numbing.
The circle of horror closed ever tighter,
Afrightening thing for a commuity writer.

They descended upon me that dark dreary night,
And the last thing I saw was a sorcerer in flight.
Waving a staff made of green dragon bone,
He disrupted life on the world close to home.

Incanting magic words like "stormwater, traffic calming" and more,
The streets of the island buckled and tore.
And so my life ended on that godawful night,
In the Council Chamber of horrors and blights.

Now there's a moral to this tale, so listen well,
Cause my body lies rotting and is beginning to smell:
Whether it be zombie, alien, sorcerer, mummy, maniac, vampire, witch or beast,
There's a little bit of monster in all of us, to say the least.

So beware hallows eve,
When we're out and about,
And keep clear of the dark,
Without a doubt.