With an orange majestic presence, the pumpkin sits in the center of Francine's parents' dining room table, while her parents argue about it.
"Compliment your father on his pumpkin, Francine. He's very proud of it. He pays more attention to it than he does to me," Mother says, twirling some turkey on her fork.
"Ah, will you lay off about the pumpkin?" Father says, pouring some gravy on his mashed potatoes, "It's the only thing the garden produced this year; that's why I like it. We had a drought, Francine."
Francine stares into the pumpkin's folds and wonders if it's true that one can tell the future from its entrails. If so, the future's probably death. That's always a good bet.
"You know, you could have watered the garden instead of watching baseball games on television all summer. You were just too lazy to do so."
"Well, what about you? You could have gotten off your ass and broken out the hose too."
Scratches appear on the pumpkin's rind the closer Francine gets to it as she leans in. They've been there all along, but she couldn't see them before.
"It wasn't my garden. You wouldn't let me help, remember? Then you forgot all about it, like usual."
"Can we have a nice Thanksgiving dinner? Francine, I see you're interested in the pumpkin. It weighs 33 pounds."
Spots of green still appear amidst the orange. Even in the aged, childhood hides in places.
"I wanted to carve it for Halloween, but he wouldn't let me make a Jack-O-Lantern. Then I wanted to make pies with it for Thanksgiving. He just wants it to sit there until it rots. I came down one morning and I think your father was talking to the pumpkin. Does it have a name?"
"Yes, its name is John F. Kennedy. He was assassinated 49 years ago and this country's been going to Hell ever since."
Francine puts her right hand on the pumpkin. It is cool and soothes her.
"It was going to Hell before that, and I bet I can pick a better date for when things started going to Hell, at least for my life."
"When's that? Our wedding day?"
The pumpkin's stem has small prickly hairs on it. They sting Francine's fingers as she feels it.
"Before that."
"The day you met me?"
As Francine bites into her pumpkin pie, she feels guilty.
Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel.
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