PUMPKINITIS

Jack had been in the pumpkin patch for a good seven hours. He had picked pumpkins and loaded them first into a wheel barrow and then he had trundled them over to his truck and loaded them on. He had not stopped until the truck was full and so many pumpkins told him he would be selling well over at the farmer's market in Brightsville.

As he loaded on his wheel barrow, he looked back at the large field of Mr. Portman's. He grinned. "Thanks, you rotund hippo, for the crop; you won't miss these; your field is still loaded with plenty of pie."

He hopped in his truck and turned the key; it started but when he put it in gear, the wheels spun. The ground was soft beneath his wheels and the pumpkins weighed him down.

"Pumpkin seeds!" he spat, yanking open the door and jumping out.

What to do, he wondered. If he spun his wheels too much, he would never get out of here, and no way was he unloading the pumpkins.

He didn't want to stay longer than necessary because Mr. Portman might come home and he had a clear view of this field from his driveway.

"Oh, tarnation, and damnation: this frustration!” He was furious. So angry that he grabbed the nearest pumpkin and threw it. "Back to hell, if you don’t make me sick!" He cried, and then he went to the nearest tire and laid his jacket under the front of it.

The other side was on shaggy grass and not so muddy, so he wished this would do it; the dirt would wash out of the denim jacket or he would buy a new one when he sold the stolen pumpkins.

He got back in and set the truck into gear, hit the gas and with a lurch he was spinning forward and onto the road. He stopped, got his jacket and tossed it on the pumpkins, and then he was off to town, laughing, in relief.

Things were going great for him.

That evening, he set up at the market and many parents, with their kids, stopped and bought from him; within three hours, he was down to less than a dozen.

But another thing had been occurring, and he thought at first it was from over work in the sun, his skin had been tingling, and he would reach up and feel his cheeks felt spongy, and then in a few minutes the fingers slid on a slick surface...and people were looking at him oddly; he heard a few kids ask their parents what was wrong with the funny orange man. One woman had shrugged, "He has pumpkinitis, child; don't get too close, it might be catching."

After that, buyers didn't come, so he decided to accept the roll of dough and be happy. He wasn't sure just how much he made, but some of the biggest pumpkins he sold for twenty dollars and the smallest had gone for three dollars. So he knew he had some major moolah...not bad work...even if the pumpkins hadn't been his to sell, but belonged to Mr. Portman.

However, when he tried to get in his truck, his head would not fit. He pushed and turned and grunted and cussed; he even farted, but none of it did any good.

What the hell was wrong?

"Pumpkinitis?" He repeated what the woman had said, thinking how he had just thought they were kidding, at the time. Now, he thought she had said whatever this ailment was...and maybe he needed to see a doctor.

As he couldn't get in his truck, he walked over to Joplin Street to Doctor Pilpusher, who lived there, and had a clinic attached to his house.

He knocked on the side door, the door to the clinic and was relieved when Dr. Pilpusher opened to him.

The doctor's eyes widened in surprise, "What in heaven, man...how did this happen? Did some kid drop a pumpkin on your head?"

"A lady said I have pumpkinitis; can you cure me, doctor?"

"Come in, my boy...I must examine you; to be frank, I've never seen the like before."

Jack sat on the shiny table, and let the doctor poke and pry and pinch and didn't hurt from any of it, but when the doctor came with his scalpel, Jack said, "You are not carving me with that, stay away. Don't you dare!”

"But Jack, this will not hurt a bit."

"I am not a fucking jack-o-lantern!"Jack screamed, and he kicked the doctor in the chest. The doctor hurtled back, hit a table and fell down. In the meantime, Jack had rushed to the door.

The doctor yelled, "Come back, Jack. I can help."

But Jack ran, and he ran straight out of town...he saw a lot of small, mis-shappen creatures carrying bags, but he passed them al by. He knew where he was going.

He felt the pumpkinitis was taking him over and transforming his entire body. His hands had become like roots with shoots and so were his feet; in fact, he was having trouble keeping from taking root with each step, and as he neared his destination, having made great effort to get there, he was barely a man. His shoes had burst off his feet miles back. His clothes were tatters but still clung to his form, and he was glad because he didn't want to lose his money; finally he had slid his billfold into his cavity of a mouth; the crevasse in his face held his treasure well.

Mr. Portman looked out his window at the pumpkin-head scarecrow and wondered who had been so nice as to put that great decoration on his yard. He had to see it closer.

Outside, he pulled his jacket closer as the wind whipped around the house from the north east. The scarecrow figure stood a lone sentinel on his yard, for Mr. Portman, although the largest grower of pumpkins in Trafford County never decorated for any holiday, including Halloween, and yes this was October 31.

A smell wafted to him, a scent of raw pumpkin and human sweat, it was rank, and Mr. Portman's mouth salivated, the first stage of vomit as he felt nauseated, suddenly. 

"What kind of scarecrow is this?"

He took a few steps closer, and then the wind moaned, just like a man in misery.

No, it wasn't the wind, Mr. Portman realized.            

The scarecrow with the gigantic pumpkin head was moaning, and then Mr. Portman locked eyes with the pumpkin and he recognized those eyes.

"Jack Leaper!" Mr. Portman exclaimed, in horror. "You poor man, good God."

Jack opened his mouth and spat out his guts...a long trail of pumpkin seeds, in the middle sat the billfold." Yours, your money." Jack belched.

"Why is it mine?" Mr. Portman carefully extracted the billfold using his handkerchief.

He looked inside, and counted the money." There is 1623 dollars in here."

"Your, your money,” Jack croaked.

"OK, but explain, if you can, man. You're in a bad shape."

"Stay back, I have Pumpkinitis. I stole your prize pumpkins and sold them, and meant to keep every penny. But got sick...oh God...I threw one in the patch...said it made me sick; now, I'm cursed..."

"You're not gonna die; there must be an antidote."

Jack's knees gave out, no longer having bone but had turned to stalk and plant fibers. He sank to the ground and spread out, leaves curling around the Pumpkin.

Mr. Portman ran for the house, screaming.

©10-8-2011, JA WAYAHOWL

Happy Easter, everyone

LOVE

Love is not the easy ride to happiness everyone takes it to be
It is a road traveled in a fast car or a slow train to destiny
Love is complex and full of hidden meaning
Love has so much to give, so much to receive in return
Love is a give or a take and love is possessive, yet being selfless
It is an act of surrender, being willing to submit to another’s will
In total trust and without fear of the outcome
Love is worship of another, devotion to a cause so great that death
Gives rise not just to the cherished memories but to life everlasting
Love is the desire to forget one’s self and serve this adored one
With a pure truth so consuming as to be the focus in life
Love is faithful, loyal, powerful and endless
Love exists because God exists as the love operating inside your heart
And guiding you in your actions; God is in control
He lives in you and works his wonders through the act of love
God is everywhere, in everything under the sun
Love begets love, universal love, love one another
God loves all, and His love is the greatest love gift of all
For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son
So that whosoever believeth in him shall have everlasting life

hi everyone,

thought i would come by today and enter a new blog and just fill in on things that have been going on in last few months. last year i did not come here too many times, though i would have liked to but for the last 6 months of the year i spent most of it with only library access as my own computer crashed and i had to send it for repairs, and then  after i got it back i changed from broadband to dial up and so that's a bit slower connection but cheaper. i have been more active in  church too , and have become a member of the first church of the nazarene and this is a church i feel comfortable in, which i can't say i ever felt before so after the new year this was a step i wanted to take.

i have also been working on several writing projects, and now have 2 collections of poems am going to publish. one is Resonance: the soul-bloom's quest, the other is Love's Own Passion. Some can be found among the backpages here on xanga, as a matter of fact.

i am still editing The Chair of Release and Remembrance, which am sorry i have not completed yet but i feel in its time, and mustn't push it, but i am steadily getting closer each day. everything in its season.

also i have been painting a lot during the time my computer was in shop and i now have about15 paintings of big cats, wolves and so on, and these are for sale, too.

i am glad we now have a new president and i pray that our economy improves now and things get better for everyone.

i have seen the power of prayer in action, so i am happy to know God is looking out for his children. He won't let anything too bad happen, he is a kind and loving father.

take care, God bless.