Pumpkin Perspective

Happy Halloween
It doesn’t seem so long ago that I was just a small, seemingly worthless plant with potential.  How could I forget all of the compliments?  “That’s the best pumpkin in the whole damn patch”, they would say, “Look at the one, its perfect” is another line that I got so FUCKING SICK OF THAT I WISH THEY WOULD STOP MY GOD DAMN EXTERIOR IN EVERYTIME I HEARD IT!!! The compliments wouldn’t stop showering down on me. I was supposed to achieve greatness, not sold in a fucking grocery store like a common household item.  DID YOU HEAR ME?? I WAS SUPPOSED TO ACHIEVE GREATNESS.  It doesn’t matter anymore.
         I was purchased with tow other brothers, both from the same patch which I had been miserably spawned.  On the way to the car, one of them was dropped on the pavement, making a wonderfully sick sound.  Lucky fucker, he didn’t have to come close to seeing half the horrors that I have.  The other one anxiously survived to the house, then was gutted alive with a dull kitchen blade, then his seeds were scooped out of his gaping skull, and then came the gruesomely hilarious talk of them being dried out and eaten in the months to come.  It’s too god damn bad that I couldn’t be around to enjoy some formal cannibalism.  A shrewd sort of demonic little face was then carved on to his gleefully lifeless shell.  I envied the son of a bitch.  GOD I ENVIED THE SON OF A BITCH!!!!
         Now it was my turn. I knew it was slowly approaching, and there wasn’t shit I could do about it.  Not that I would anymore, even I had the chance too.  I quietly sat in the corner and waited, patiently waited for my time of public butchering.  Occasionally I would be taunted by one of the little bastards shouting “Mommy, can we carve the pumpkin now??”  How I would have loved to carve one of their sinister little faces off, and brought it back to my home patch, to show them what the world was like.  To show them that life isn’t worth living.  To persuade them to act in ways I was to cowardly to go through with at the time.
         The day finally came when the little hellion’s mother lifted me out of my now well known corner of sanity and dreams, and placing me on a table obviously prepared for a brutal execution.  The mother left, meaning to return in a matter of seconds.  In the pure ecstasy of Halloween, the little whore that I had become quite familiar with drew the knife and, and began to remove a large portion of my skull.  The pain was unbearable, but the knowledge that I was going to die today made it less than I stinging sensation.  Then something amazing happened.  I heard a shrill scream and I felt the thump of a small child’s finger falling into my shell.  I was quickly showered with blood (much more invigorating than the compliments) then the little whore ran away screaming.
         I had finally had enough of this ongoing hell that I have been forced to call my life, so I slowly rolled myself off of the table.  When I hit the tile-splattered-with-blood floor, I could have sworn that I heard my shell crunch.  The pain was excruciating, but the feel, and the taste and even the smell of rapidly approaching death was nothing but pure pleasure.  The final thought in my head was how all of my life I wanted to die, and now that I’ll be rotting in hell I couldn’t be happier.