So it’s Halloween if you live in a place that observes it, and here in the States children everywhere will be dressing up in costume and going door to door getting treats. I loved this time of year as a kid, but even better than eating candy was the chance to help with the carving of the jack-0′-lantern. One year, I was particularly proud of our little carved face on our pumpkin, only to find it had met a terrible fate. At some point in the night, the tricks began and my little pumpkin was smashed into oblivion in the middle of the street. I was really upset at the time. It had been sitting there for a couple of weeks and was like a member of the family. I think I had even named it, but I can’t remember which name I chose. Either way, it was a sad end for poor whats-his-name and I came inside to inform my mother that a murder had been committed.
I’m not sure why someone would find smashing pumpkins a fun sport, but it was the fate of many pumpkins on my block that year. The day after Halloween, the once quiet street had been turned into the scene of a pumpkin massacre. It was rather gruesome really. Most of the kids simply thought it was kind of cool and well, who cared anyway, Halloween was over now and they had their candy to worry about now. But it wasn’t just a pumpkin to me. It was a piece of art. I had worked hard creating the perfect face and crafting my own unique pumpkin personality. When the candle was placed inside and it began to glow, it was like my art had burst to life. The whole process was so magical. Coming out to find my masterpiece had been unceremoniously crushed into the pavement was a rather painful experience and one I’ve never forgotten.
Additionally, I was just a little kid and Halloween was a spooky occasion. I was convinced that the ghost of whats-his-name would return to seek his vengeance. It wasn’t quite clear to me just how he would get back at his attackers since he was just a head, but I was certain he was smart enough to find a way. If nothing else, a floating apparition of a pumpkin head would at least give those hooligans a good fright, I thought. Each year on Halloween night, the horrible person and their accomplices would be visited by the glowing head of whats-his-name. A scary and contorted floating head, pieced back together, eyes glowing brightly, and mad as hell. Of course, the mourning time of children is impressively short and I was quickly distracted by the large bag of candy sitting on my bed. All was not lost. It was still going be a very happy Halloween.
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