A Gruesome Halloween

One time I carved a pumpkin.

That's right, one time.

It was a couple years ago. I thought it would be fun. My group of friends together and prepared to rip some pumpkin heads off.

Yes, it was gruesome.

I could almost hear the horror music movie inside of my head as I lifted my carving knife. Was that a faint scream?

By the end of it, we were tired, messy, and in need of police tape. Crime scene, anyone?

Wet newspaper was crumpled all over the floor, and a bunch of dull knives lay scattered about. We had pulled out juicy pulp and seeds, piling them up in soggy heaps.

I had cut and dug and carved and sliced.

My jack-o-lantern didn't even look that good. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to carve one of those guys? I can barely draw a smiley-face, let alone cut one out of a pumpkin.

Not sure if it was worth it. I surveyed the damage inflicted by my hands on an innocent pumpkin and thought, eh, not sure if I ever need to do that again.

And I haven't.