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On Halloween Night two of the most unlikely heroes you could ever imagine are tasked with fending off the undead and coming face to face with the impossibly evil Pumpkin King!
The Pumpkin King by David O\'Hanlon
Music by Ray Mattis
http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
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Transcription:
Barley and Clyde Sawyer were not the nicest men in Boucher, Arkansas. If they were,
they never would have found themselves in my employment. The rural community of Boucher was somewhere between a large town and a small city and had attracted, throughout its years, a veritable rogues\\u2019 gallery ranging from petty thieves to serial killers. The Sawyer cousins fell somewhere in the middle of that spectrum.
The boys worked any number of odd jobs, but often supplemented their income by...\\xa0creative\\xa0means. The cousins were the perfect partnership, seeing as Barley was strong as an ox and Clyde was, well almost, smart as one.
What Clyde lacked in intelligence he made up for in loyalty and tenacity. Qualities found rarely in men of his ilk, if they\\u2019re ever found at all. Clyde brought a heart of gold to the team\\u2014 fool\\u2019s gold, as it may have been. And damned if he wasn\\u2019t the best shot, I\\u2019ve ever known.
Barley on the other hand, was not. In fact, if the boy managed to hit the broadside of a barn, you could safely bet he\\u2019d been aiming the opposite direction. Luckily for him, he was hellfire in a brawl. Barley also served as the thinker of the two\\u2014a meager accomplishment, to be sure. It was, as it turns out, Barley\\u2019s bright idea that led the boys to my doorstep.
My name is Barnabas A. Lambert and I will do my best to relate to you the events that would later bring me to employ Barley and Clyde. Some of the details may have been exaggerated in their recollections, so please try not to hold that against me\\u2014I\\u2019m only telling you, how I heard it.
\\u201cWell sumbitch, Clyde,\\u201d Barley said.
He said it a lot. It was only by the inflection that Clyde Sawyer knew exactly how to take it. The slow, drawn out tempo of the catchphrase told him Barley was not at all impressed by the turn of events. Clyde never missed a shot, not even on purpose. It was like every bullet he fired magically found the bullseye. The fat man\\u2019s head leaked across the truck bed.
\\u201cCould\\u2019ve at least wrapped him in plastic,\\u201d Barley griped.
\\u201cI ain\\u2019t have none.\\u201d Clyde wheezed and dug in his pocket for his inhaler. \\u201cThat bastard weighs a ton and I had to pick him up all by my lonesome.\\u201d
\\u201cIf you hadn\\u2019t shot him in the head, you wouldn\\u2019t have had to pick him up at all.\\u201d Barley grabbed the man\\u2019s collar and jerked him out of the back of the truck in three tries. The body poured over the tailgate into a contorted heap. \\u201cUgh! He squirted brain juice on me. I didn\\u2019t say anything about shooting him.\\u201d
\\u201cAin\\u2019t say nothing about not shooting him either.\\u201d Clyde straightened the corpse out. \\u201cThings got a little out of hand. I had to improvise.\\u201d
Author\\u2019s Surname / Barley and Clyde Meet the Pumpkin King / 3
\\u201cOut of hand, my ass. You just needed to give him the brick and get the bag of money.\\u201d Clyde sighed. \\u201cI got the money and we can sell the brick again.\\u201d
\\u201cAin\\u2019t the point, Clyde.\\u201d Barley shook his head. \\u201cWhat kind of drug dealers can\\u2019t be
trusted to keep their word?\\u201d
Clyde scratched his head. \\u201cAll of them, I reckon.\\u201d
\\u201cWell, that shit\\u2019s gotta change.\\u201d Barley grabbed the man\\u2019s ankles. \\u201cLift with your knees.
We ain\\u2019t got no workman\\u2019s comp.\\u201d
Clyde hooked the body under the arms and they began the arduous trek down the levy
with their portly cargo. Thanks to Clyde\\u2019s hair-trigger and Barley\\u2019s short-temper, the duo was getting good at disposing of unwanted bodies\\u2014a skill they sold to others, as well.
\\u201cClyde, make me a promise.\\u201d Barley wrestled to fix his grip around the gargantuan thighs.
\\u201cWhat\\u2019s that, Barley?\\u201d
\\u201cMake the fat ones run a bit before you shoot them.\\u201d
Clyde laughed and lost his grip, sending Barley and the body rolling to the bottom of the
incline. He stopped laughing when he heard the splash and trotted down quickly. Barley shook off the water and unraveled the plastic sheeting from his pocket in silence\\u2014near silence, anyhow. A low hiss alerted them to another presence.
\\u201cClever bastard.\\u201d Clyde pointed behind Barley. \\u201cThat\\u2019s the same one as last time.\\u201d
The alligator inched closer, but stayed to the water\\u2019s edge. Gators were smart critters and knew the sound of the Sawyers\\u2019 1978 Dodge Warlock meant a free meal was coming. Barley laid the sheet out and rolled the man onto it.
\\u201cIf they\\u2019re working, they might as well be getting paid for it,\\u201d Barley said and unsheathed the knife from his boot. \\u201cHell, we might even get a couple of them to keep at the house. Be a damn sight better than coming way out here to dump a body.\\u201d
Barley ripped open the man\\u2019s shirt and set about the grim task of hollowing the corpse while Clyde went up top to retrieve the bags of landscaping rocks. By the time the younger Sawyer brought the duffel back, Barley was finished with his end. Barley tossed a kidney to the gator to thank him for waiting patiently while Clyde stuffed the body with stones. They wrapped the plastic around the man and secured it with duct tape before loading him into the camouflaged johnboat. As they rowed away, the gator went for the viscera left ashore.
The channel wound around a series of bends and into the maze of swamps that occupied the southeast of Fagan County. There was little in the way of civilization in that nook of the Natural State. Barley and Clyde paddled until they reached a tiny island known locally as Frog\\u2019s Ass\\u2014so called because it was bare and wet as an amphibian\\u2019s behind. Arkansans can be quite colorful in their colloquialisms.
They rolled the body into the water before mooring the boat to the ramshackle pier. Frog\\u2019s Ass used to be a popular spot with the peculiar church of Ebenezer Whitt. The sinister minister, and founder, of the nearby community of Whitt\\u2019s End was something of a local boogeyman. The Spanish Flu found its way into the tiny village and spread amongst the congregation like wildfire.
At least that\\u2019s what they say.
Fact of the matter is, like most stories in the South, there\\u2019s the truth... and then there\\u2019s what really happened. Whichever version you believe, the ending is the same\\u2014everyone in Whitt\\u2019s End died badly. As the years went on, some of the yokels began venturing to Frog\\u2019s Ass
Author\\u2019s Surname / Barley and Clyde Meet the Pumpkin King / 5
to party without the nuisances of local law enforcement. Reports of strange occurrences were rampant, as were the disappearances. The island, not much larger than a Walmart, was eventually forgotten about except by those of ill repute\\u2014those like Barley and Clyde.
The boys got off the boat and stretched their legs. Rusted beer cans poked out of the dirt like headstones of fun times long since dead and served as the only proof anyone had ever come to the isle before them. They didn\\u2019t use the small motor when carrying anything of legal ambiguity and the two hours of rowing took its toll, so they rested on the island whenever their work took them so far into the wetlands. Barley laid back and let the cool mud sooth his tired muscles. A single cloud drifted lazily across the full moon.
\\u201cHey, Barley,\\u201d Clyde called as he urinated noisily against a stone protrusion. \\u201cCome look at this.\\u201d
\\u201cI reckon I\\u2019ll pass.\\u201d Barley sat up and pulled his shirt back on. \\u201cBest keep it away from the water though. Some snapper might think that little white wiggler of yours is a minnow and bite it off.\\u201d
\\u201cThis is why you ain\\u2019t got no friends, Barley.\\u201d Clyde\\u2019s zipper punctuated the statement. \\u201cI meant come look what I was peeing on.\\u201d
\\u201cThis better be good.\\u201d Barley left his flashlight sticking out of the mud and joined his cousin. He took of his ball cap and scratched at his shoulder-length hair. \\u201cYep, that\\u2019s definitely interesting.\\u201d
\\u201cIt\\u2019s one them devil altars, that\\u2019s what it is,\\u201d Clyde informed him.
\\u201cThat\\u2019s just lies they tell in movies, Clyde,\\u201d Barley felt the carved lines of the knee-high stone pillar. \\u201cThe pentagram means good things, most the time. Folks used it to symbolize the Five Wounds of Christ, for example. It\\u2019s even big in China.\\u201d
\\u201cDamn, you always learning me something, cuz.\\u201d Clyde spat tobacco juice across it and inspected it with his penlight. \\u201cSo, this is a good thing, then?\\u201d
Barley checked his watch and grunted. \\u201cWell Clyde, I don\\u2019t reckon this one is actually.\\u201d \\u201cHow\\u2019s that?\\u201d
\\u201cYou see, Clyde, we was here two nights ago... and it weren\\u2019t.\\u201d
\\u201cThat is a bit worrisome.\\u201d Clyde leaned closer to the symbol. \\u201cMaybe we just overlooked
it.\\u201d
\\u201cCould be.\\u201d Barley snugged his hat back on his head. \\u201cBut it\\u2019s been Halloween for about
three hours now and it\\u2019s a full moon and I\\u2019d much rather we didn\\u2019t fuck around with the pentagram in the swamp if it\\u2019s all the same to you.\\u201d
\\u201cBig Barley scared of an old star? Ain\\u2019t that something.\\u201d Clyde pointed at an indentation in the center of the star. \\u201cWhat you reckon that is?\\u201d
\\u201cLooks like a hand. Let\\u2019s get on back to the house. We promised we\\u2019d do them hayrides for the kiddies tonight.\\u201d Barley turned to leave. \\u201cAnd don\\u2019t touch the\\u2014\\u201d
A cypress exploded in a flash of lightning across the swamp. The animals went silent, like scalded children cowering before an angry mother. Barley rubbed his eyes to clear the spots from his vision. Frog\\u2019s Ass shuddered twice and the muddy bank bubbled. The ground shook again and Barley\\u2019s boots sunk into the liquifying soil beneath him. He exhaled sharply and shook his head before looking back at his cousin. Clyde\\u2019s jaw was hanging open\\u2014and his hand was pressed firmly in the middle of the bizarre altar.
\\u201cWell sumbitch, Clyde!\\u201d
The carved star glowed brightly and the younger Sawyer j'