And Mr and Mrs Ghost are at the restaurant -
Our *****-ghetti Place -
the one at the dead end,
and that plays their
favorite soul music
"How would you like your drink, ma’am?"
asks the Head Waiter,
who, for obvious reasons,
is just a floating head
"I’ll have my drink ice ghoul, screech you,"
says Mrs Ghost
"And as usual, Mr Ghost would like his
eggs terri-fried, please"
"Also," says Mr Ghost, "I’ll have coffin after"
"Scream or sugar?" asks the floating head
"6 spoons of scream, screech you"
"And same for you too, ma’am?"
And Mrs Ghost replies:
*"No…Booberry Ice Scream, please"
...another poem in my series on spooks, ghosts, ghouls and such...poem(s) based on jokes from various sources