Pirate and I celebrated Halloween together with a horror-movie-a-thon. I was surprised when he suggested carving a pumpkin. Suggesting this very common Halloween tradition may not seem like a big deal, but that’s because you do not know the deep rooted emotionlessness of a Pirate. Did I mention that Pirates don’t have a bone of nostalgia in their bodies? Or that they hiss the words BAH HUMBUG at every chance they get, and then the parrot on their shoulder repeats it in that creepy parrot way. . . you know, just in case you missed it the first time? That is why I agreed to carve a pumpkin. ‘Cause when a Pirate is demonstrating a morsel of festivity, it must be embraced or it may wither back into the abyss and be swallowed by the darkness.
It was requested that I draw up a specific design for the pumpkin, that design being a [insert politically incorrect word starting with the letter “R”] cat. I drew the design onto the pumpkin but once I began cutting I remembered how much it sucks to carve intricate designs into pumpkins. Then my Attention Deficit Disorder kicked in, and before long I had aborted my pumpkin carving operation and was sitting in front of the television with a bag of Old Dutch Kettle Cooked.
So Pirate picked up the knife, turned the pumpkin around, and completed this masterpiece under two minutes.
Sometimes laziness is so much more efficient.
I did learn a helpful pumpkin carving tip: if you gut it the night before the carving, the pumpkin will soften up and make for an easier cut. And if you’re carving a [insert politically incorrect word starting with the letter “R”] cat, the design will turn out much more realistic if you leave the pumpkin sitting on your counter for a few days.
Also, an important bachelor-esque note of observation: it only takes one week for a carved pumpkin to grow a fur coat. I will save my Mom grief and refrain from uploading that picture.