Warning: This title may contain graphic violance, strong language, and mature subjects.

Continued from Lord Pumpkin #1

England, Middle Ages

So it was that the harvest time came in the kingdom much like Camelot. Merlin sent for straw and he sent for clothes, and he sent for a large pumpkin. The straw was fashioned into tight, thin bundles to form limbs and a body. An olive-green tunic was draped over this frame. Merlin carved two, round eyes, and a mouth into the pumpkin to make a proper head. Lastly, Merlin produced a candle. He placed it inside the pumpkin and lit its soft green flame with two words.

Lord Pumpkin: A New Twist #2
August, 1998

"A Butcher, A Baker, A Candle-stick-maker, Part II: Light You To Bed"

Written by Todd Mandle
Edited by James Pedrick
Created by Dan Danko
Property of Malibu Comics

Geistville, Pennsylvania, USA, July 5th, 1998

Three in the afternoon and Kirby lay in his bed not wearing his glasses, his room a blur. The police had been by earlier that morning to ask questions. Dad was on the phone lining up a psychiatric appointment. Everyone seemed satisfied that last night had been an accident that Rick Thompson lying dead and burnt in a morgue, being prepped for a closed casket funeral was an accident. Kirby knew better. The paperwork would say that the Thompson boys had been harassing the youngest Lot child and Rick had simply not let go of the quarter stick of dynamite in time. Only three people knew what happened.

Kirby had been overtaken by a fit of rage, anger, and cruelty. When Rick started to throw the explosive, Kirby had grabbed his hand and held it closed. Both boys were right at the center of the blast, but for some reason Kirby wasn't touched by it. Dan and Buster knew, but nobody listened to them, and from the way Kirby's older brother Lance looked at him, he, also, knew something was wrong.

Getting up from his bed, Kirby walked over to his desk and sat down. He took out a sheet of paper and began to draw with charcoal. His gaze focused for a moment. A candle, vaguely green sat on his desk. He found matches sitting beside it and lit the wick.

"Here comes a candle to light you to bed."

Geistville Park, later that evening

"Shut up," said Lance through clenched teeth.

The talking crow flew beside him. "You have to listen."

"Shut up," Lance stopped and sat beside a tree. He pulled a bowl, and a dime bag out of his jeans pocket, and began to pack the bowl.

"Lance, you need to be lucid for what we're dealing with here. You can't have that shit in your system," the crow said, as it landed in front of him.

Lance kicked at the large black bird. "Look, I may do a lot of drugs but one thing I know is that birds don't talk, so get the hell out of here."

"That's right, birds don't talk and little boys don't blow each other up."

After inhaling deeply off the bowl, Lance gave the crow the finger. "Hey, in case you haven't noticed I'm having a bad day. There's an accident-slash-murder involving my little brother. The cops were to my house this morning which meant I had to flush almost my entire stash down the toilet, and a talking crow is telling me that my already mentioned brother is going to turn into some monster scarecrow on crack. I'm not coping all that well here."

"Well you’re going to have to cope if you plan on getting through this alive," the crow said.

"OK, great, fine, how do we keep Kirby from turning into this Pumpkin guy."

The crow looked down at the ground and didn't answer.

* *
*

Mr. and Mrs. Donald Lott walked upstairs to Kirby's room. Mr. Lott tried the door but it was locked. "Son, it's your father. Open the door."

Inside the room they could hear shuffling. "Here comes a candle to light you to bed. Here comes a candle to light you to bed. Here comes a candle to light you to bed. . ."

Mrs. Lott called into the room. "Kirby, we want to talk to you."

"Here comes a candle to light you to bed. Here comes a candle to light you to bed. . ." was repeated again and again. Suddenly a tearing sound and a scream erupted from the room.

"Don, get the key!" yelled Mrs. Lott.

Mr. Lott ran downstairs and grabbed the key to Kirby's room. When he returned, the chanting began again, This time in a raspy, deep voice. "Here comes a candle to light you to bed."

Kirby's parents opened the door. The room was splattered with blood, and skin, and hair. At the center of it all stood a monster, with a body of straw, the head of a pumpkin, cruel, glowing eyes, a jagged mouth that billowed with glowing, green smoke.

It looked at them with a grin and said, "Here comes a candle to light you to bed. Here comes the chopper to chop off your head."

* *
*

"You want me to what?" yelled Lance.

"Kill Lord Pumpkin," answered the crow.

"But my brother is this Lord Pumpkin guy, right?"

"Not really. I keep telling you. For all intents and purposes your brother is dead. Lord Pumpkin is growing inside of him. When he comes out your brother is gone."

Lance slouched against a tree and held his head. "Why the hell are you talking to me? Get somebody else, someone who can deal with this shit."

"But you need to. . ."

"Why me?!?" screamed Lance.

The crow kicked at the dirt and was silent for a moment. "You want an honest answer?"

"I'm not sure"

"The name your parents picked for you."

"Oh, I'll kill you, you little bastard."

"Call me a romantic, and now it's too late to find anyone else."

Next issue: Lance goes home to find his parents and Lord Pumpkin sitting down for tea. And then I sell you some beach front property in Idaho. Continued in Issue #3

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