Written by Jaqueline Brace, Illustrated by Mia Lambert
“That we don’t eeeeven care!” Nathan yowled over the radio. Every window was down, so had there been anyone on the road with him, they would have been both amazed and offended that his voice managed to carry over the blasting music. One hand tapped a sloppy rhythm on the steering wheel as the other swung lazily out the window. Nathan’s boot was heavy on the gas pedal, the trees lining the road reduced to desaturated smudges in the fleeting glow of his headlights.
“As rest-less as we a-are,” he continued, his hair flopping madly with each butchered note. Suddenly, his headlights illuminated a silhouette planted in the middle of his lane.
“Ohhh shi-” Nathan slammed his foot on the brake just as his bumper tore through the figure. Gooey entrails splattered across the windshield. Tires squealed in harmony with Nathan’s girlish screams as he careened into the ditch. With its nose wrapped firmly around a tree, the car finally came to a stop.
Nathan sat frozen until his gaping mouth was filled with canvas as the airbag deployed. He wrestled the inflated mass away from his face, spitting indignantly. His head sputtered as he took in the catastrophe before him.
“-never knew the rules, hung down with the freaks and ghouls,” the radio crooned on. Nathan slammed his fist on the power button.
“Shut UP!”
“Easy there, Nate.” Nathan whipped his already-whiplashed head around to meet a set of glowing eyes. Or rather, holes meant to appear as eyes. They were carved from orange flesh, the right a triangle and the left an angled crescent, giving the impression of a raised brow. The eye holes were paired with a wide toothy grin, all lit with malicious fire. A thick green stem crowned the gourdish head, which sat atop the collar of a pristine tuxedo. The lanky vegetable creature perched sideways in the passenger seat, its gangly legs folded awkwardly in front of it.
“You really should drive slower. The speed limit on this road is 55, and you,” the pumpkin man raised a white-gloved hand to grasp his stem. The top of his head popped off with a sickening squelch. He reached his other hand into his hollow skull and pulled out a radar gun.
“... were going 87! I mean, 5 to 10 over is reasonable, but 32?” The talking squash tsked. Its jagged grin remained unmoving as it spoke, though the light filling its cavernous head seemed to pulsate in time with its words.
“What… the fuck… are you?!?” Nathan panted. His legs stuttered uncontrollably in his damp jeans. The haunting fire flashed crimson.
“Is that any way to talk to someone you just ran over? Who is teaching manners these days… or ethics, for that matter?” It shook its head, the pumpkin wobbling precariously in its tie.
“Speaking of ethics, let me see your phone.” The gourd extended its hand. Nathan had a flashback to his strict-yet-hot English teacher.
“Wha… What?”
“Your phone?” Spindly gloved fingers waggled. Nathan shifted, extracting his phone from his jeans and setting it in the waiting hand. He could have sworn the pumpkin flashed green as it procured a handkerchief and wiped down the device.
“Fucking disgusting,” it muttered. “Alright, let's see…” The cracked screen flashed to life. The pumpkin man tapped and swiped furiously, head wobbling at what it saw.
“Nathan, Nathan, Nathan… I had hoped you were better than this.” It turned the screen, revealing a horrifyingly explicit text thread with someone named “Very Manly Male Coworker”.
“Now, I’m not one to assume, but I don’t believe your coworker, Amanda,” the screen filled with a photo of a very beautiful, very naked woman, “is male or identifies as a man, correct?” Nathan nodded slowly.
“And your girlfriend Danielle doesn’t know this, does she?” He shook his head.
“Nathan, have you heard the phrase, ‘cheater cheater, pumpkin eater?” The hollow smile seemed to spread wickedly. Nathan gulped.
“I hope you’re hungry.” Before he could inform his unwelcome passenger that he had already eaten and was quite full, his mouth was full of slimy orange flesh. Seeds stuck in his teeth as the pumpkin man’s now ungloved hand clamped over his face, spewing autumnal goo down his throat. Nathan’s stomach bulged with the bastard child of infidelity. Gourd juice spread through his veins to fill every organ and orifice. His skin gained an Oompa-Loompean pallor. The fugly jeans were the first to give, followed by the compression shirt and tighty-whities, the tattered fabric swallowed by his bloated orange body. His hairless chest pressed against the steering wheel, blaring the horn into the unforgiving night. Nathan flopped his arms helplessly until, finally, he popped. The pumpkin man dissolved into the night, leaving Nathan a disastrous stew of unfaithful flesh and fruit.
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