Lazy Jack O’ Lantern Or Pumpkin Fucker? A Greek Row Mystery
J.N.
When I was asked by Off Leash News to write an investigative journal piece for Halloween, I was admittedly overwhelmed. Not only does UW have a severe lack of on-campus students right now, but finding a spooky topic that hasn’t been written about to death (pun intended) was going to be a challenge.
However, while I walked around Greek Row, pondering whether zombies had invaded the area or if it was just a normal day on the ave, I came across a peculiar anomaly. As a forensics major, I couldn’t pass up this opportunity to record it in my notes:
A Connecticut field pumpkin on the sidewalk facing SE, too far to tell which house it came from.
A single 2.37 diameter hole cut in the center. No sign of removal of the stem.
Bruising around incision from blunt trauma force, a major prolapse of pumpkin guts on the concrete.
Any normal person would dismiss this pumpkin as a comical attempt at a Jack O’ Lantern. However, as I kept walking, I wrote down the many questions raving through my head:
I don’t understand. If someone wanted to carve a Jack O’ Lantern, wouldn’t you first remove the stem of the pumpkin to clean out the inside?
Fuck, was this the work of a drunk frat boy? No, the cuts were too clean, whoever did this had practice, maybe a pre-med student.
Pumpkins are usually unharmed when being carved, so why the bruising?
Ladies and Gentlemen, the question that popped into my mind was one that you all might find shocking. Please stop now and maybe read a less ballsy publication (The Daily recommended) if you wish to maintain any sense of sanity moving forward.
Okay. Everyone gone?
Guys....Did someone fuck this pumpkin?
Upon realizing the possibility of cross-species pollination, I turned in my tracks and ran back to the gourdy glory hole, determined to find answers. I took the pumpkin home and began my autopsy:
The pumpkin appeared to be rotting for at least 3 days, as it still appeared to have some structural integrity on the inner cellular wall. The outer wall was badly cracked and bruised. Whoever did this really put the pump in pumpkin.
The taste test was inconclusive.
When I reached inside the pumpkin I made a gruesome discovery: it was still warm. It was a cold day, which meant that this was done RECENTLY. I was lost in a metaphorical corn maze, and the only way out was to become that which I was hunting. To catch this penetrative pumpkin pervert, I had to conduct experiments.
I have provided 3 diagrams with my trials. For the first one I cut the hole first, then proceeded. For the second I wanted to test if perhaps there was another perpetrator involved. Someone who didn’t cut the hole, but came across the corpse later, and took advantage of its gourdy goodness.
The third trial was a test to see if the hole was cut at all, or rather penetrated without any hand-held tools. I would have to take the erect variable and attempt to create an incision through blunt force trauma to the pumpkin’s abdomen.
After a brief trip to the ER, I had my results:
The least accurate to the original victim was the third trial. However, I tried it once more (this time intoxicated) as I had forgotten I found the pumpkin on Greek Row.
After some massive reconstructive surgery, I had my results:
The third and fourth trials were least like the original.
Trial 1 lacked the increased bruising found on the original subject
Trial 2 was the most accurate by far. While I had to freeze the original pumpkin during my hospital visits, they still looked almost identical, although mine had a smaller incision.
I came to the following conclusion: a drunk frat boy failed at carving a pumpkin, then threw it out. It wasn’t until AFTER this event that someone engaged in intercourse with this pumpkin and left it to rot in the street. This would have had to have taken place only SECONDS after I passed by on my walk.
So I went back through my notes. Could something have gone past my sight?
I then noticed something: The first word in each of my writings....
I don’t understand....
Fuck, was this the work of a drunk frat boy....
Pumpkins are usually unharmed when being carved so why the bruising...
I....Fuck....Pumpkins.
I then realized that ever since I saw that mutilated pumpkin on the street, pretty much all I had been doing in my apartment for the past 3 weeks was fucking pumpkins. It is Halloween. I sit in shame, my lap looking like Chester Cheetah projectile vomited on my sweatpants. In my attempts to expose a spooky holiday story, I had only exposed myself.
Sincerely,
-That guy who wrote the Offleash article about fucking pumpkins