Sales from the Crypt(ocurrency)

Now we tentatively enter fall, that dread time falls

As the creatures run out of supplies and must hit the malls

Truly this is no Monster’s (having a) ball

Deliveroo won’t deliver to terrors, so who you gonna call?

The foggy dead sailors’ journey from afar

Packed like sardines into a rental Ford Ka car

Wanting tasty preserves by the jar

Just to bag those bounty points of nectar

Necromancers take a break raising the undead

Desiring self-raising flour to raise their bread

To take to their secret lair in their shed

Ensuring the cadavers guarding the homestead are fed

The invisible man realizes his bandage supply is no more

He plucks up the courage to head to the store

But he never actually reaches the shop floor

Unable as he is to beat the automatic door

The army of ghosts a path doth beat

No solids for them only liquids neat

Use the self-service and quickly retreat

With some Daz whites to dazzle with their sheets

Vampires uncaring of an impossible rhyming range

Load up on bags of blood orange

On the juices of which they become deranged

The viscous liquid from these renders them unaged

On the full moon the werewolves time had come

Hair of the dog required a bottle of rum

Some doggy breath cleansing minty chewing gum

Plenty of tins of tasty Pedigree Chum

The undead king’s elite black guard

Cut through shoppers their experience marred

To get more points on their Club Card

Nearly enough to afford a roaring Lion Bar

Zombies trying to cut down on their intake of meat

But they’ve not given up on their Brains treat

Four bottles of that stout should go down reet

And some Quorn limbs as an environmentally sound snack treat

The empty stomached Skeleton crew

Seek boneless fish for their stew

Plenty of milk as they knew it’s how they grew

And with that combination they’ll be lucky not to spew

Off go the Wights, they’re not so super folk

Not really ones to shop with a laugh or joke

But they enjoy buying an egg but only for the yolk

The stuff you’re avoiding is called albumen a store worker spoke

Sirens taking a break from causing crashing boats

For cold wet feet they want some Toastie Totes

And with whatever funds are left in their float

Get plenty of lozenges for their screaming sore throats

Frankenstein’s Monster pushes a trolley that’s large

Dawdling shoppers in his way he gives a cathartic barge

He buys many packs of batteries so he can charge

And once more scare the kids more than Farage

Jason trudges off with strict instructions from his wife

That he’s not to buy another bloomin’ knife

So, in order to avoid this marital strife

He gleefully eyes a shiny pointed fish slice

A goblin gobblin’ too many Goblin Burgers

Full of meat sweats can go no further

His guts are giving him merry murder

Gaviscon needed to help him with his turd errs

And beyond the long macabre moans

The desperate groans that had continually grown

The scary lot found (Pennywise?!) It they had blown

The stupid spooky buggers had left their shopping list at home