Unforseen Consequences

Sat at the computer, trawling through seemingly endless quagmires of dross; reams upon reams of porn. Girl on girl, girl on horse, girl on vintage accordion, girl on antique clock nailed to a cricket bat... I've seen it all before. I'm looking for something new. Something fresh. Something exciting. Something to make me feel alive. Yet in my haste to find something new, I feel as if I may have forgotten something old... something potentially vital.

As if to smugly justify my worries, a low rumbling begins at the bottom of the staircase and starts to wind its way upwards. I hear angry noises coming from the landing – picture frames being knocked from shelves, polar bears smashing pots together and rugs being snagged by the careless motions of unhappy feet. All at once, the rumbling culminates into a furious cadence right outside my bedroom door. The door bursts off its hinges, flying across the room and stapling the cat to the wall. My father stomps into the room, seemingly unphased by the door's sudden murderous impulse to impale the cat. I look into his face and see red-hot fury swimming in his eyes. He grits his teeth and holds out the pumpkin from last October.

“YOU LEFT THE PUMPKIN OUT TOO LONG!” spit flies from his mouth in angry tendrils “LOOK!” He removes the top of the Jack-O-lantern and I begin to understand. Beneath the seemingly innocent outer crust of the pumpkin, lies something hideous in its irrelevance.

A miniature carnival winks from inside the pumpkin's head. Dozens of tiny patrons line up to buy tickets for severely under-maintenanced amusement rides whilst others attempt to win shoddy prizes from games that are most likely rigged. My eyes grow wide as dim comprehension envelopes me. I can't begin to apologise enough. How could I have been so foolish? I'd had all the time in the world to dispose of that pumpkin before something like this could've happened... but I was selfish – I'd allowed myself to become distracted by the big blue vase I'd bought last Thursday. If only I'd bought a smaller vase to admire, perhaps I'd have been spared just enough time to beat the shit out of a pumpkin. But alas, no turning back now. I've made my bed on this one, now I must lie in it.

My father slams the pumpkin onto my desk and storms out of the room, playing cards and marbles falling haphazardly from his sleeves and onto my carpet as he flails his arms in snake-like motions.
“Fuck” I mutter under my breath, eyeing the carnival cautiously. I slip from my seat and slide under the desk in a perversely fluid motion. Once sheltered beneath the wooden fortress, I wrap myself in a thin, silk cocoon to hold myself over until April – perhaps the miniature Carnies would move on.

I wait.

Time slips around me like stale water. Boredom festers on my skin like yawn-inducing fungus. I struggle my hand down towards my pocket and turn loose its contents. Three Roman coins and a figurine of the Ready Brek dragon tumble from their denim prison and onto the surrounding silk. Most unhelpful. I lose track of how long I've been under; I decide to resurface.

I tear out of my sodden silk shell and punch a hole in the wall. Peering through my newly-punched peep-hole, I spy on the neighbours as they tear up the carpet and shout at mice. Real sportsmanship. Nobody shouts at mice quite like the Williams'. I manage to tear my gaze from the carpet-ripping mice-screamers in order to focus on less ridiculous matters – the pumpkin carnival. I pivot 180 degrees on the balls of my feet and shit myself in anger. The carnival has swollen – swollen to a ludicrous size. Tiny rollercoasters twist their way around my room, entwining themselves in the bookcase and ensnaring the curtain rails. Thriving masses of tiny guests queue in long, winding lines, as they squeak and chitter in tiny voices. Fury. How dare they maim my beautiful domicile? How dare they cut and hack until it becomes a twisted, orange, vegetable circus from hell? Trousers brimming with anger-induced faeces, I begin to smash my way through the amusements, bringing an end to this preposterous occupation.

The once proud carnival sinks into roaring, judicious flames as my unwelcome guests are extinguished, their stern joy melting to terrified sludge as their world collapses around them, the putrid stench of despair and burning flesh bidding them farewell on their exit from the living world. I hop nimbly over the small charred bodies to fetch the broom. What a mess. I sweep the rotting shambles under the bed and turn my attention to the source – the origin, the conduit, the alpha & omega... the pumpkin.

I seize it firmly in my right hand, staring it in its empty, orange eyes. Without another moment's thought, I turn around and launch the pumpkin out of the window, knocking out the milkman and sending shards of glass soaring around the room, all the while wondering why I didn't pause to open the window first. Dusting my hands off, a small smirk creeps across my face. Now that little problem has been disposed of, we can get back to the matter at hand.

Sat at the computer, trawling through seemingly endless quagmires of dross...