Pumpkinhead.

      Listen: Once upon a time, near a small town off the freeway, not far from where I grew up, there was a little Christmas theme park. A place filled with fiberglass snow hills, storybook rides, and even an ice covered "North Pole". When I was a kid, I loved the place. Not for the "storybooks come to life" aspect, but because they had a magic shop. This treasure trove of a store boasted such wonders as bugs in ice, smoke from your finger tips, hot pepper gum, disappearing ink, you name it. All the best comic book ad page specials. I can't say I cared much for the rickety ex-carnival rides, but I love spending my allowance in that shop. around 1978 I had one of my first jobs at that park. Not at the magic shop as I would have liked, but as a costumed character.
     I was Pumpkinhead.
     My already scarecrow like 6 foot high school physique was topped with an enormous fiberglass head in the shape of a sardonic Jack-o-lantern. My day was spent wandering about the park, entertaining kids, being often kicked and generally abused by younger teens, and more often unintentionally scaring the crap out of toddlers. But hey, it was a job, and besides, some of the Elf chicks were pretty hot. Also, there was the March Hare. Under the giant mute rabbit suit was a cool Hawaiian guy who kept me supplied with dirty pidgin sayings. We would grab some free hot chocolate and hop the storybook train, and as we passed, shout things like "won'poke?" at the clown chicks who filled balloons by the train ride. Between that, and being offered various "job aiding" substances by a guy in a pointy hat and curly toed shoes, it was one of the most surreal jobs a high school kid could have. But, as all good things must come to an end, the place closed down for remodeling in 1978 and despite efforts, never reopened. Seven years later, and now many years ago, the Pirates and I were, as usual, drinking rum. "I hated that head," I said, knocking back a shot "but, in a way it was kinda cool."
     "What happened to it?" asked one of the pirates as he refreshed my shot.
"for all I know?" I held up the glass and gazed through the amber fluid, "it might still be sitting in our old dressing room." I downed the shot and went about lighting a cigarette. When I looked up, The pirates were grinning. I knew the plan but spoke anyway.
    "Lets go get my Head."

    We were on a Mission. We were also drunk. But there we were, wandering through the woods with only a zippo lighter providing a dim flickering light source.
"Damn!" I muttered, and shut the lighter. It was getting too hot to hold, and I had to let it cool down. We had deviated from our original task, and were looking through the old "Storybook Railroad" area, because if memory served, there was a chest of treasure in here somewhere, and well, we were Pirates after all. After a fruitless search we cursed the thieving bastards who took our treasure, and then made our way back to the main area of the park. "guys!" came a hushed voice from the darkness, "check it out" One of the pirates had found the "Alice in Wonderland" mirror maze, and the door was open. This place was basically a series of narrow mirror lined hallways with scenes from Alice behind glass walls, except now the glass and mirrors crunched like gravel under our feet, and all the figures had been decapitated.
      A strange odor, like copper and decay came from the walls which were spattered with a dark substance, and to be honest, I still don't want to know what it was. We found our way out and headed towards the front gate, where under the stairs to the office resided the dressing room, and hopefully, my Head. On the way we noticed that most of the buildings were posted with signs that read "Warning! Electric Shock burglar alarm!" which seemed ludicrous, but, then again, what if? Was a giant comical fiberglass pumpkin worth a trip to the hospital, and possibly Jail? We got to the room which was once the "dressing room" and found no sign, but it was secured with a large chain and padlock. I gave the Padlock a tug, and a light came on in one of the buildings. We made a loud and obvious escape over the front gate and across the parking lot and then crouched in a ditch, smoking cigarettes, and spying back at the park, which remained silent. We decided that our next mission, was more Rum.



       About a year later, a couple of us returned to the park, but found it ransacked and decaying. The once padlocked building was now doorless, so we ventured in and found a large pentagram painted on the wall above some sort of disemboweled animal. We began to feel like it was the part of the movie where the audience was yelling "get out, get out", so we did. My Pumpkin head was gone, so it goes.

     Ah, but wait...

     Listen: Once upon a time some years ago, a woman I worked with was telling a story about a little Christmas theme park just off the freeway. And how as a child, she was traumatized when she saw a giant scarecrow with a big scary pumpkin for a head. "When was this?" I asked, biting my lip. "well," She said, "I was four, so it must have been 1978". I burst out laughing. "What?" she demanded "What?"