Pumpkin-Boy

Once upon a time there was a little pumpkin patch

and in this pumpkin patch a pumpkin grew.

He was not alone, mind you –

he had some friends, and parents too

but he is our protagonist

so it hardly matters what the others do.

“You are destined,” they told him,

ever since he was small,

“to become a jack o'lantern this fall;

with your uniform color,

like paint on a wall

and symmetrical structure –

you're round as a ball! –

you'll be the grandest jack o'lantern of all!”

Now he didn't know what was precisely implied

by the promise and yet it still filled him with pride.

The words of his parents weren't meant to mislead

but jack o'lantern sounded official, indeed –

a little like chairman or sergeant or king –

and he wanted it more than anything.

He understood it meant traveling places

and scaring off ghouls by making some faces.

First of all, though,

the children must choose him

and he knew his charms;

he intended to use them.

He'd always thought himself the perfect avatar of pumpkinhood

bound to be selected long before some other pumpkin would.

But little did he know

that when the children came around

with the faces in their visions warped and scary

they'd pass right by the little guy

commenting to their parents that

they thought he was “a little ordinary.”

His anxiety was quick to rise

as he began to realize

how rapidly the days were slipping past.

Pumpkins marred with moldy spots

and blemishes were quickly bought

while to our hero not a second glance was cast.

But the twisted specimens that all the children seemed to love

were the very mutant gourds he'd always held himself above

(though he never said as much, since he was nice)

So one day he pulled out from the ground

stretched his leaves

and hopped around to ask a wise old pumpkin for advice.

“What can I do?” the pumpkin-boy griped.

“I'm plump and I'm round and I'm orange and I'm ripe!

But the children ignore me, as if I were plain!

Yet look who they favor. It drives me insane!”

At first the old pumpkin did nothing but croak

'til at last he breathed deeply

and creakily spoke.

“There is an old Halloween legend,” he said,

“passed down to the living,

from the ghosts of the dead:

Each year, in a small pumpkin patch somewhere

lives an earnest young pumpkin, determined to scare.

But he's innocent, honest, and pure of heart

– unfrightening traits, and children are smart –

but your beauty is a special gift

and I'll tell you how to use it if you promise

you can finish what you start.”

Naturally the pumpkin-boy

was fairly overcome with joy

and swore that he'd do any required task.

“Very well,” the oldster said

with a wise old nod

of his wise old head.

“The Crown Prince of Halloween is who you ask.”

“Now it's a fact

though little known

that this holiday of blood and bone is ruled over by a king and queen.

They have a son, though only one,

who is given certain privileges

but he keeps to himself and is seldom ever seen.

He sits on a throne very far away

all alone like he's on display

and only the witches know the way

but sometimes they'll give you a ride.

They'll take you there, I've heard it said

if you cut a hole in the top of your head

and offer up the seeds that grow inside.

Then if you're ambitious

and pure of heart

wily, clever, pleasant, and smart

self-assured,

and have a lot of gall,

then the Crown Prince of Halloween might –

since he has the power, if he feels it's right –

make you the scariest jack o'lantern of all!”

So the pumpkin-boy hastened to find a witch

with a taste for seeds and a ride to hitch

and at last he inquired of a sweet little witch named Jan.

Pumpkin-boy asked if she might assist

and she reached in his head

and she pulled out a fistful of seeds and she said

(a bit hungrily)

“Sure I can!”

He wasn't too happy with the state of his head

but he remembered what the wise pumpkin had said:

The scariest jack o'lantern sounded keen!

So he closed his eyes and he held on tight

and Jan brought him, in the dead of night,

to stand before the Crown Prince of Halloween.

He was wearing a cape and a mask and he sat

in a throne carved of stone that resembled a bat

(intended, the pumpkin-boy thought, to strike fear,

but its undersized wings and its oversized ears

engendered emotions you might expect from a glimpse of a kitten

with a bow 'round its neck)

and he glowered down in such a serious way

that pumpkin-boy wasn't sure what he should say.

But the Prince spoke first!

“I think you'll do,” he said with a bloodthirsty smirk.

“It's true,” he continued, “they tell me I'm gifted.

Blessed. And I'm forced to agree,

I am truly the best carver of jack o'lanterns anyone's seen –

and one day I'll be king of Halloween!

I can terrify!” he cried, leaping up and down

“With the lilt of a smile or the tilt of a frown.

I'll do it again or I'll eat my crown!

I can terrify with the slant of the eyes

or the set of the teeth

or their shape or size –

I'm the undisputed master of pumpkin fear

And I think you'll do well as my project this year!”

Needless to say, our hero was shaking,

since this wasn't the deal he thought he was making.

But what could he do as the Crown Prince descended

and the knife was flashed and his skin was rended

but hold very still

and panic and try to conceal his fear

and not scream or cry

or shout, “But I'm too perfect to die!”

When the Prince sat back to examine his work

His lips twisted back to that princely smirk

and he went to announce to everyone

that the scariest jack o'lantern was done.

Thus it came to pass that on Halloween night

our hero was somewhere on Earth

with his skin full of holes and a candle in his head

and a positive sense of self-worth.

When the children arrived he filled them with fright

so they dropped their sacks full of sweets

and down off the porch each last one of them fled

in progressively hasty retreats.

All the other jack o'lanterns envied the pumpkin-boy's luck

cursing the half-wrought, lopsided grimaces

with which they'd all been stuck

but long about now the change began,

one pumpkin-boy hadn't predicted –

for in his fearsome, toothy roar

a bit of happiness was depicted.

All the attention and all of the fear

was filling him full-up of holiday cheer

and his face softened into a satisfied grin.

Soon it would be safe to call him the happiest jack-o'lantern of all

and all the little children became his friends.

They gathered around and he told them stories

of his times of doubt, of his times of glory

and all the travels he'd done along the way.

When the vandals and ruffians came through town

smashing the pumpkins all around

his new friends saved him to burn another day.

This sort of story is supposed to finish with that

happily ever after business

but pumpkins don't last forever

you know that.

Just let it be known that his enemies died

and he learned a lesson in honor and pride

and he was better off for it –

til he got composted out back.