With it being October, Halloween is right around the corner, and with Halloween comes pumpkins and with pumpkins comes overwhelming intrusive thoughts telling me to absolutely obliterate every single unlucky orange sphere that I come across.
It’s been this way as long as I can remember. It started out with minuscule things such as crushing pine cones under my shoes as a youngster because of how enjoyable the crunch was, but as I got older pine cones stopped satisfying my needs. I craved something more. Eventually I expanded my palette. From pine cones I went to stepping on my sister’s Polly Pockets, but that didn’t last because my sister told our mom so I had to begin experimenting with other things. I went through a few fruit crushing phases along with other easily disposable foods, but it only quenched my desires for so long.
That was until Fall of ’13.
4th grade arts and crafts. Halloween was coming up and Ms. Nielersonport decided to bring in 12 small pumpkins for the class to carve together. I thought nothing of them at first. I’d been around pumpkins every Fall and my family had even gone to a pumpkin patch in our town to check them out so I was fairly familiar with them. Carving pumpkins was just something most families do around this time of year. However, this particular group of kids in my class really bothered me. They made fun of me. So after everyone had carved cute stencils and faces into their pumpkins we had recess and while all the other kids were outside playing I snuck into the classroom, full of rage, and began to smash my classmates hard work. I just threw the first few to the ground, but then decided to diversify my method of destruction and stomp on them as well to ensure there were no survivors. That first stomp sent chills down my spine and a wave of euphoria washed over me. I was obsessed. The spillage of the pumpkins guts, which my classmates had stupidly forgotten to remove, intensified the experience. I was having the time of my life, I’d found my calling. Then Ms. Nielersonport walked in.
I got suspended and had to formally apologize to all of my classmates, though I didn’t mean my sorries. None of them recognized my crocodile tears. Now I’m in college and I can’t control my urges, especially around October. That’s why Halloween’s my favorite holiday, especially the potential it gives me, so if you carve a pumpkin and leave it outside your NCA or your dorm room, just know it’s not safe, it never will be as long as I’m lurking around looking for my next victim. This is my story about why I have these urges, and also, my warning to all carving lovers everywhere.