Just before sundown tonight I was sitting in my office when the Asian kid across the street lost his everloving shit and kicked his pumpkins all over into the street.

There I was, typing away at my computer, when I notice in the mirror of my screen the kid watching me from his front stoop. I turn around to look and sure enough eyeball emoji staring back. Oh no Michael Myers you have a full 24 ’til go time and I have my bonker flashlight ready so you need to put that away. I swivel back around.

A few minutes later he starts yelling. I mean guttural profanity laced screams mixed with other words I can’t make out aka just another day in his family’s life. Is he headed this way? I turn to look out the window. A pumpkin flies by? Getting up to make sure the door is locked “just in case”, I  glance out the tiny windows on either side to discover he’s waged war on all the many pumpkins in his yard. They are now airborne, smashed or rolling around in the street. One has made it onto our lawn and knocked over my skeleton. He has lost his pumpkin spice.

I’m considering going outside <not really> when a blonde kid from the down the cul-de-sac runs by hollering, “WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? Do you want this one? THIS one? THIS ONE?,” zipping from jack-o-lantern to jack-o-lantern like a golden marble in a pinball machine while the Asian kid stands there unresponsive, fixated on the child bride talking mannequin thing on my front steps. You’ve met your match, buddy. You do not want a piece of her.

I don’t know how it ended because I took to the kitchen to get some chips and salsa (read: a drink) and ended up sharing my chips with B. Franklin who, it turns out, loves tortilla chips. By the time I remembered pumpkinpalooza all that was left were some guts in the street and a few intact gourds back on the family’s lawn. His poor mother.

Tomorrow’s going to be interesting. I’m turning on that child bride at 6am. Flashlight, check.