Home > Uncategorized > My Life is F#@&ed

My Life is F#@&ed

Howdy, all.

Like the title of my post? Yeah, it about sums it up perfectly. I wont bore you all with the details, but needless to say I’m surprised I’m still sane. Okay, maybe not sane, but more screwed up than I usually am. I try not to let things bother me, but sometimes they just pile up until you feel like a seven year old huggie diaper trapped at the bottom of the landfill. See, I have this one other issue. I tend to keep the crap (hence the huggie reference) bottled up inside until my body starts rebelling. Too much emotional baggage has translated itself into a bad back, toothache, endless headaches, and to top it all off, I’ve had a cold for a f#@&ing month. Yes, you heard me right, a fucking month. Screw the subtleties. I’m sure you noticed F#@& really means fuck. We’re all adults, or at least I hope we are. If you’re under the age of 18, please visit a kid friendly blog.

Anyhoo, the cold I had also came with a bout of laryngitis. I can’t believe I spelled laryngitis correctly without the little red squiggly lines that usually underscore the more serious of maladies I have no idea how to spell. I had my first ever blog talk radio interview and yes, you guessed it, I sounded like Alvin the chipmunk with a damn head cold. It was pure awesomesauce. Thanks be to all the little gods that the Host of the show, John Rakestraw was a seasoned veteran and helped me get through the interview relatively unscathed. Or at least not sounding like a complete moron.

Now another fun saga of my life has begun and added more stress to my already stressful life. Again, I can’t and wont go into details. Somethings, you just don’t blog about. This latest chapters has afflicted me with YET ANOTHER MALADY. Can you say fucking insomnia? Yeah. I knew you could. Sorry for the rant, but I’ve been without internet for over a week. Add that to the insomnia and you all are lucky I haven’t stripped down buck ass nekkid and run through the streets screaming like a little girl. Well, I’ve decided to start using my maladies against the world. I’m going to use my sick sense of humor and cunning mind to overthrow the worlds governments to unite the world in peace and harmony. That or end up in the looney bin. I haven’t decided yet. What has better benefits? Dictator or asylum resident? I’ll have to look that up before I decide.

Anyway, I’ve been so concentrated on my troubles I neglected my poor blog. I’m surprised nobody called the ASPCB (It’s kind of like the ASPCA but it protects blogs instead of cute fuzzy animals.) My poor blog hasn’t been posted on by myself for about a month. I know right? I should be shot. I should be flogged. I should be beaten. I should be forced to listen to Justin Bieber Music (Okay, it’s not music but tell that to the tweens forcing their parents to listen to the crap). I should be forced to overcome my insomnia. Or put it to good use. Which is where the point (I promise there is one) of this post comes in.

If I can’t sleep, I’m gonna fucking blog God Damn it. You got it. See right now I’m sitting here at my laptop typing away with my iPhone headphones plugged into the speaker jack listening to Cypress Hill and nodding my head because I AM insane in the membrane (wtf does that mean exactly?) or I was until the song ended and “THIS IS HALLOWEEN” came on. Yeah, I need to take the holiday music out of my playlist. Well anyway instead of ranting and raving with a modicum of drooling in the future, guess what. I’m going to start writing mini stories. They may be funny. They may be scary. They might just suck, but we’ll find out with me. Hope you’ll hang out with me in the future! Come with me on a journey of insanity.


You want a sample?

But I haven’t even come up with anything yet. Fine, but just a little one. Hmmm

This is Halloween. That has possibilities. The pumpkin king!





“Mom, I like this one!” Jack pointed down at a rather robust looking gourd. His mother walked over to where he stared and pointed. She looked down and gasped. the pumpkin prices this year were astounding. The pumpkin at her little boys feet had to weigh at least twenty-five pounds. She quickly did the math in her head and groaned at the price. Twelve dollars for a pumpkin was just a little more than she was willing to spend.

“Jack, that one’s a little too heavy, baby. Come on. Let’s go find another.”

“No, mommy. I want this one. It perdy.”

“Jack, I said no. Come on.” She reached down and grabbed his pudgy little hand. She tried to pull him away from the pumpkin, but he stood there rooted to the ground. She yanked again but didn’t budge him. She looked at his face and he just stared at the pumpkin smiling. “Jack?”

“Yes, mommy?”

“Come on sweetie. Let’s go find a prettier pumkin,” Nancy said nervously.

“No, mommy. I like this one and it really wants to go home with us.” Jack bent down and picked the pumpkin up off the ground without any trouble at all. Nancy’s mouth opened in shock.

“Okay, baby. We’ll get this one, but let me carry it.” Nancy bent down and touched her hands to the cool surface of the pumpkin. She hissed in shock as the orange flesh burned her skin. “What the hell?”

“Are you okay, mommy?”

Nancy looked at her hands. The flesh wasn’t even pink. It showed no signs of burns either. She shook her head and chalked the feeling up to being overtired. “I’m fine, sweetie,” she said and reached down to take the pumpkin again. She noticed Jack’s little smile as he watched her hands. She paused midway. “Are you sure you can carry such a big pumpkin, Jack?”

“I’m sure, mommy.”

She shrugged her shoulders and led her five year old son to the check out register that had been set up at the entrance to the tented pumpkin patch along the old highway that led from Lazy Days Daycare center to their tiny two bedroom apartment on the outskirts of town.

“That’s a mighty fine pumpkin you got there, son. You picked out a winner,” the old man behind the register said as he reached down with gloved hands and plucked the massive gourd from the hands of Jack and set it on a large silver scale. The red needle swooped from zero to thirty five pounds.

Nancy stared at Jack in shock. “So much for twelve dollars,” she muttered under her breath.

“That will be three dollars ma’am.”

Nancy stopped digging through her purse, looking for a twenty dollar bill and stared at the man like he had grown an extra head. She opened her mouth to say something but just smiled instead. She pulled out a five and handed it to him. Then she saw the scale. The needle had settled right on the six pound mark. She rubbed her eyes to make sure and then at the large pumpkin on the scale. “No wonder he could carry it,” she whispered and looked down at a smiling Jack.

“Here’s your change ma’am,” the old man smiled and handed her two dollars. She pocketed the change and picked up the pumpkin to hand to Jack. She nearly dropped the pumpkin. It weighed more than Jack.

“Careful, ma’am. They can get slippery.”

She turned and nodded wide eyed at the man. Jack reached up and took the pumpkin like it weighed  no more than an inflatable beach ball. She stared at him as he ran toward their green minivan.

They made the trip home in relative silence. Nancy had shut off the radio because she couldn’t find a decent song to save her life. Instead she smiled and listened to Jack as he rambled on like he was having a conversation with the pumpkin strapped into the seat next to him.

By the time they pulled into the driveway she was starting to worry. Jacks conversation had turned into a full blown one sided argument. Apparently the pumpkin was winning, too.

“Fine. Be that way,” Jack yelled and slammed the back door shut after he got out. leaving the pumpkin alone in the back seat.

“Are you going to carry your pumpkin inside, Jack?”

“NO! He wants you to carry him in,” he said and stormed inside.

Nancy shrugged and took it from the seat. She strained to get it inside, but she finally managed. Jack sat on the couch watching his cartoons about undersea creatures with annoying voices. Nancy personally hated the show. “Are you going to help me carve it?”

“Carve what?”

“The pumpkin. Tomorrow’s Halloween. We won’t have time to carve it after you get home from scho…”

The look of horror on Jacks face stopped Nancy from  finishing her sentence. “Carve it? Carve it? Mommy you can’t kill Necrostophiles.”


“Stophiles. That’s his name. If you kill him the other punkins will be very mad.”

“Okay, Jack. Why don’t you go get into bed. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. School and then trick or treats.”

Jack nodded and hugged his mother before heading off to bed. Nancy poured herself a glass of red wine and sat down on the couch in the spot Jack had vacated. She took a sip, realized she was watching cartoons, and flipped on the news. Story after story threatened to send her mood spiraling into the abyss. “The crazies are out early this year.”

She flipped off the TV, checked on the sleeping Jack, and made her way back into the kitchen. She drained the rest of her wine and set the empty glass on the kitchenette table holding Necrowhateverhisnamewas. She gave the pumpkin the middle finger and put her hands on her hips. She stared at it for a full minute before having enough. She opened the drawer under the microwave and pulled out a serrated kitchen knife.

She walked over to the pumpkin and put the tip of the knife about three inches from the stem at the top of the pumpkin. She smiled as she drove the blade into the pumpkin all the way to the hilt. The pumpkin screamed. Or maybe it was her. Either way, she let go of the handle and backed up against the kitchen counter behind her. Blood as red as the wine that had been in her glass began pouring freely from the wound in the top of the pumkin.

A low moaning noise filled her ears as the blood formed a pool on the table and began falling to the floor in a miniature red waterfall. Nancy turned to run and saw Jack standing in the entrance to the kitchen looking very angry.

“Mommy, I told you NO!” He ran over to the pumpkin and began rubbing his hand gently over it and whispering to it softly. Nancy screamed and grabbed Jack’s arm. She tried to yank him away, but just like at the pumpkin patch, she couldn’t move him. He looked up at her and a single tear slid down his cheek. “You killed him, mommy. I asked you not to, but you did it anyway. The others are coming. I won’t stop them either.”

“Who’s coming?”

“The other punkins. You killed their king.”

Nancy put her hands over her mouth as the first vine shot through the kitchen window and wrapped itself around her neck. She grasped futilely at it but it kept tightening. She reached into the drawer next to her and grabbed a butcher knife. She slashed at the vine and cut through it with one swing. The vine slipped from her neck. She ran back to Jack to grab him and run. She stopped before she touched him. His skin had turned a dark brownish green. His face started turning orange. His eyes glowed like twin candles and his nose sank into his face. He opened his mouth and flames flashed between his shrinking lips as his mouth curled in an insanely large smile that spread from ear to ear. He grew taller too. Before she even started screaming, he towered over her at least seven feet tall.

She started screaming.

Jacks skeletal brown hand wrapped around her throat.

“I begged you not to kill him, mommy,” he said in a demonic voice. “Now I am the Punkin King.”

Categories: Uncategorized
  1. Jen
    June 11, 2011 at 7:52 am

    a real blog, from a real person..that made me laugh ..
    and wicked piece of writing..feel like I gotta read it a few times cos I might be missing something..but….

    the universe is giving u insomnia TO MAKE YOU WRITE…yeah, and u thought u were crazy :))
    Jenny Thomas

  2. June 11, 2011 at 11:10 am

    Omg. First the rant. They have this thing you can buy over the counter called nyquell . Sleep and cold relief will insue trust the guy who looks to play doctor. Loved the pumpkin story. Gave me chills. Maybe your muse is keeping you up at night so you can write. Very good story. Enter it in a contest like at cemetery dance.com. @dravenames could help with that. Tell him Reggie said hi. Get well my freind or Should I say fiend. Reggie

    • June 11, 2011 at 11:21 am

      Oh, I will. Thanks Reg. And Thank you too Jen! Glad you both liked 😀

  3. June 11, 2011 at 12:01 pm

    LOVE the short story Sean.Great stuff! Whatever you have I think it’s going around.I feel for ya believe me. Take Reggie’s advice on the Nyquil if you haven’t taken it already, it’ll help. Also I see you more as a dictator than a crazy person. You don’t want to stay in the loony bin take my advice on that. Absolutely NO on that! We need you in the world writing your brilliant stories! XO

    • June 11, 2011 at 12:12 pm

      Aww, shucks, ma’am. ~blush~
      Thanks, Eileen!

  4. June 11, 2011 at 2:23 pm

    Skip the nyquil and take a shot of whiskey. Not much difference in the two. As for the sleeping. Menopausal woman here who hasn’t slept well in like foreveeeeer! So, I can’t feel for you there. TMI, SORRY! Sure glad your back though. You do make me laugh and make my day. I always look forward to your posts.
    Seriously though. I do hope you feel better soon.

  5. June 11, 2011 at 3:39 pm

    Awesome story Sean!
    And about the sleep thing – come over to my house and look after my baby who has not slept one full night yet. He’ll be three soon.
    That’ll cure your insomnia sharpish!

    • June 11, 2011 at 3:44 pm

      Um. Look at that. Im tired. 😉

  6. June 11, 2011 at 5:45 pm

    Wicked little story. You need to write more 🙂
    Hope you can get your sleep problems fixed. I know how that it- super sucky! ((hugs))

  7. June 11, 2011 at 7:57 pm

    *hugs* To life being sucky. I’m here if you want to talk. You certainly do have an amusing way of being irritated, tho. LOL. Insomnia could produce a bestseller at this rate. 🙂

  8. June 11, 2011 at 8:57 pm

    Sean – three paragraphs in and I had to retweet this like I was possessed by the abomination that is the father of some kickass but creepy vampire hybrid sugar britches chick in one of your books. Don’t know which book yet? Was that a spoiler? Too bad, so sad – and I can’t be bothered with caring. *Air Kisses For All*
    Dude? Feel better soon. Signed, A fellow (looming on the brink of funny farm material) insomniac.

  9. June 11, 2011 at 8:59 pm

    LMAO. Thanks Linda!

  10. June 11, 2011 at 9:03 pm

    People actually sleep? In 25 years, I don’t think I’ve had a night with more than 3 hours of sleep.

    As for your story and blog – it’s great. You caught my attention with your tweets – very funny. Not dry like soooooo many others.

    • June 11, 2011 at 9:06 pm

      Thanks, John! Love the dragon avi.

  11. June 12, 2011 at 2:40 am

    Oh wow, great story. Thanks!

    Pumpkins are devious creatures.


  12. June 18, 2011 at 12:26 pm

    Bloody good work as always Sean!

    Will never look at a pumpkin the same way again!

    Keep it up and let me know when you get something else posted

  1. No trackbacks yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: