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THEPUMPKINWASSTUFFED

TARASIVEC

Chapter1:EveryoneLovesClowns

Noel

“Itwasadarkandstormynight…”Iwhisperinasinistervoice,staring
withwideeyesatthesceneinfrontofme.

“Noit’snot.It’sactuallyaverylovelyfallevening.Notacloudin

sight.”

Iturntofacemyhusband,Sam,crossingmyarmsovermychest

andabovemygiantpregnantstomach,whichseemstohavegrownten
timeslargerinthelastweek.I’mthirty-five-years-old,withlong,dark-
redhairandgreeneyes.IusedtothinkIwasquitepretty,untilI
turnedintoabeachedwhalewithswollenankles.Standingnexttomy
husband,whoisayearolderthanI—withhisgorgeousblue-grayeyes;
short,dark-brownhair;andfantasticmuscularbuild,thankstothe
Marines—it’shardtorememberthatIwasonceskinnyandhotand
lookedlikeaperfectmatchformysexyhusband.

“Workwithmehere.I’mtryingtosetthetoneforwhenItellour

childthisstory.IfIdon’tinjecttherightamountofscarydetails,heor
shewillnevertrulyunderstandthehorrorofwhatwe’relookingat
rightnow.”

Samcockshisheadtotheside,studyingtheyardwe’recurrently

standingattheedgeofwhileIstudyhisprofile.Istillcan’tbelievehe’s
myhusband,eventhoughwe’vebeenmarriedalmostayearandahalf.
He’stoohotforhisowngood,andI’mahotmesswithanasscovered
instretchmarks.

“It’snotthatbad,”hemutters.

Ishakemyheadathimandthen,addingsociopathicmoodswings

tomymentallistofpregnancy-relatedproblems,fantasizeabout
jammingaknifeintohisskullandcarvingitlikeapumpkin.

“Notthatbad?!”Iargue,myvoicerisingafewoctavesasIflingone

armout,gesturingaroundmyparents’frontyard.“Myfather

decoratedhisyardwithhundredsofclowns.CLOWNS,Sam.Scary,
creepy,makeup-wearing,red-nosed,big-shoedCLOWNS.Thisisthe
stuffnightmaresaremadeof.”

Ishudder,wrappingmyarmsaroundmyself,wishingIcouldunsee

thisshit.Thereareclownscutoutofwoodandpainted;mannequins
dressedasclowns;stuffedclowns;blow-up-dollclowns…everysize
youcanimagine,fromonefoottalltotenfeettall.They’rescatteredall
aroundtheyard.Mydadisslightlyobsessedwithdecoratingforevery
holiday,whichmakessense,Iguess,sinceourlastnameis,literally,
Holiday.WhenIbroughtSamhomeforChristmastheyearwemet,he
thoughtwewerepullinguptoanairportrunway,withallthebright,
flashinglightsallovertheyard.Myfather’sValentine’sDay
decorationscovereveryinchoftheyard;alltheredheartsmakeitlook
likethehouseisbleedingontothegrass.TheentirestateofOhiowent
throughaflagshortagetheyearheboughtalltheAmericanflagsthat
hangfromthesidingandporchrailingontheFourthofJuly.

Buthehastakenthisyear’sneighborhoodHalloweendecorating

contesttoahorrifyinglevel.OneI’llneverbeabletoerasefrommy
mind;I’llseeiteverytimeIclosemyeyes.

“It’sabouttimeyougothere!”

Iturntowatchmydadjogdownthefrontporchsteps—whichare

litteredwithgiantredclownshoesandjack-o’-lanterns—andhurry
acrossthelawntowardus,dodgingallthe…clowns.

Jesus.Ican’tevenTHINKthatwordwithoutgettingthechills.

Dadispracticallybouncingwithexcitementbythetimehegetsto

us,hisfeetcrunchingthroughthefallenleavesashestandsnexttome
andnodsatthetwoofuswithahugesmileonhisface.Atfifty-seven,
mydadisaprettyhandsomeman,standingatjustaboutmyhusband’s
six-footstature,withafullheadofsalt-and-pepperhair.

“HellodarlingNoel,helloAsshole

-

Who

-

Defiled

-

My

-

Daughter…

so,whatdoyouthinkoftheyard?”

Iletoutasighandshakemyheadathim.

“Dad,forthehundredthtime,Samismyhusbandanddidnot

defileme.Can’tyoujustbehappyaboutbeingagrandfatheragain,like
anormalhumanbeing?”Mybrotherandhiswifealreadyhadababy,a
girlnamedHolly,andneitheroneofthemhadtosufferthroughthis

kindofsarcasticabusefrommyfather.Mypoorhusbanddeservesa
medal.

Hewrapshisarmaroundmyshoulderandkissesthesideofmy

head.

“OfcourseI’mhappyaboutbecomingagrandfatheragain.But

you’remybabygirl.AndI’dprefertothinkofthisasanimmaculate
conception.OtherwiseIwillhaveaheartattackanddie,picturinghow
itactuallyhappened.Doyouwantmetodie,Noel?”hedemandsinhis
usual,dramaticfashion.“Doyou?!”

“Speakingofheartattacks,”Imutter,changingthesubjectbefore

mydadreallydoeskillhimselfthinkingabouthowIgotpregnant.
“Why,fortheloveofGod,didyoudecoratetheyardwithclowns?No
onelikesclowns,Dad.Noone.You’reluckyyourneighborshaven’t
burnedyourhousedowninprotest.”

Dadscoffsandrollshiseyesatme.

“Don’tbesilly.Clownsarefun.Everyonelovesclowns.”

Aloud,bloodcurdlingscream,followedbythemostmiserable-

soundingwails,makesallthreeofusturnaroundtofindawomanand
alittleboystandingafewfeetaway,onthesidewalk.Theboyhashis
facepressedintothewoman’ssideashecontinuescrying,andthey
rushpastmyparents’house.

“Clowns,Reggie?Really?Youshouldbeashamedofyourself,”the

womanmutters,hurryingdownthesidewalkwithherdistraughtchild.

“YOU’REJUSTJEALOUSBECAUSEYOURFRONTYARDLOOKS

LIKEAMONKEYTOOKASHITONIT,SUSAN!”mydadyellsafter
her.“EVERYONELOVESCLOWNS,ANDI’MGOINGTOPROVEIT
WHENIWINTHISCONTESTFORTHETENTHYEARINAROW!”

Ishouldprobablybeembarrassedthatmydadisscreamingatone

ofhispoorneighbors,butIwasraisedbythisman.It’snotthefirst
timeI’veseenhimturnintoaraginglunaticinpublic,anditcertainly
won’tbethelast.Hetakeseveryholidaydecoratingcontestvery
seriously.Hestartscomingupwithideasandbuildingthingsforhis
HalloweendisplayinFebruary.Withallofthechildrenonthestreet,
hedoesn’tlikedoinganythingscary,andusuallygoeswithsomething
fun.Oneyearitwasacarnivaltheme,withaticketboothandfun
carnivalgamesforkids.AnotheryearitwasaCharlieBrowntheme.

Lastyear,hewentwithaMickeyMouse/Disneytheme.Allsweetand
innocentfun.Butclownsareanythingbutsweetandinnocent,and
clearlyhe’slosthismind.

“Idon’tknow,Reggie.Thathouseacrossthestreetmightbegiving

youarunforyourmoney,”Samstates.

MydadstartsgrumblingandcursingunderhisbreathasIlook

overatthehouseSamistalkingabout.Ican’thelpthedreamysigh
thatescapesme.They’vedecoratedinaNightmareBeforeChristmas
theme.It’soneofmyabsolutefavoritemovies,andthedisplayis
amazing.

There’sahugeJackSkellingtonandSallyrightinthemiddleofthe

yard,withagiantlight-upmoonbehindthem,andsmallerwooden
figurinesofeveryothercharacterarescatteredallaroundthegrass,
fromDoctorFinkelsteinandthemayorofHalloweenTown,toOogie
Boogieandtheghostdog,Zero.Thereareorangeandwhitespotlights
oneverywoodencharacter,andatleastahundredcarvedpumpkins
distributedaroundtheentiredisplay.

Mydreamysighdoesn’tonlyhavetodowiththedecorations,

though.Italsohastodowiththehouseitself.I’velovedthathouse
sinceIwasalittlegirl.It’sjustatypical,two-storycolonial,butthe
wraparoundfrontporch,professionallandscaping,andhuge,fenced-
inbackyardmadeitmydreamhouse.Ialwaysimaginedthatsomeday
I’dgetmarried,buythathouse,andraisemyfamilythere.

“Thatyardlookslikehorseshit,”myfathermuttersinirritation.

“Theydidn’tevenputanyworkintoit.Theyjustwentouttotheclosest
Halloweenstoreandboughteverythingtheycouldfind.Iputmy
blood,sweat,andtearsintomydisplay.”

“Clearly.Thebloodwhenallthosecreepy-assclownscometolife

andstabyouinyoursleep,thesweatwhenyou’retryingtooutrun
them,andthetearswhentheymurderyourentirefamily,”Iinform
him.

Mydadignoresmeandcontinuestoglareattheyardacrossthe

street.

“Didyouknowthathousesoldinlessthantwoweeks?Ihaven’t

evenmetthenewownersyet,andthey’vebeenthereforamonth.
Whatkindofpeoplemoveintoaneighborhood,trytoendmyreignas
HalloweenDecoratorKing,anddon’tevencomeoverandintroduce

themselves?Monsters,that’swho,”Dadcomplains.

Ican’thelpthewaveofsadnessthatwashesovermewhenIthink

abouthowmydreamhousewentonthemarketandsoldbeforeIeven
knewitwasavailable.WhenSamandIgotengaged,wemovedintohis
house,sinceIwasunemployedandlivingwithmyparentsatthetime.
Don’tgetmewrong,wehaveareallygreathouse.It’saranch,witha
bigyard.AndSamletmedowhateverIwantedwithitwhenImoved
in.Idolovewherewelive,outinthemiddleofnowhere—butit’sthirty
minutesawayfrommyfamily.Onewouldthink,ascrazyasmyfamily
is,thatI’dbeperfectlyfinelivingfarenoughawayfromthemthatthey
can’tcomeovereveryfiveminutesandbringtheircrazyrighttomy
frontdoor.Myoverprotectivefather,whostillhasn’tadjustedtome
beingagrownwomanwithahusbandandababyontheway;my
overbearingmother,whotalksaboutsexmorethananymother
should;andmyAuntBobbie,whousedtobemyUncleRobert,and
neverleaveshomewithoutwearingasparklingeveninggown,afull
faceofmakeup,andawig,areentirelytoomuchcrazyforonefamilyto
handle.Atleastmyolderbrother,Nicholas,andhiswife,Casey,helpto
balanceoutthenormal.

AndwhileayearagoitmighthavebeentruethatI’dwanttobeas

farawayfromthemaspossible,nowthatSamandIareabouttohavea
baby,thirtyminutesawayseemslikethirtyhours.WhatifSam’sat
workandthere’sanemergency?Andhe’saMarine—whatifhegets
deployedagain?I’llbeahalfhourawayfrommysupportsystem.

“Maybethenewneighborsliketokeeptothemselves.I’msure

they’reverynicepeople.Theyjustmovedinandthey’realready
participatinginthedecoratingcontest.That’sgottosaysomething,”
Samtellsmydad,pullingmeoutofmythoughts.

“Yeah,itsaystheywantawarwiththeofficialHalloweenDecorator

King.”

“Dad,that’snotarealtitle,”Iremindhim.

“It’sarealtitleifIsayit’sarealtitle!”heargues.“ObviouslyIneed

toupmygameandprovetothoseyahoosthattheycan’tbeatme.Sam,
makeyourselfuseful:Gofindmeasmanyclowncostumesasyoucan.”

“Where,exactly,amIsupposedtofindclowncostumes?”Samasks

asmyfatherstartswalkingtowardthegarage,hiscurrentcommand
centerforallthingsHalloweendecorations.

“YOU’REACLOWNWHODEFILEDMYDAUGHTER!GOLOOK

INYOUROWNCLOSET!”Dadshoutsbacktohim,overhisshoulder.

Withonelastlookatthehouseacrossthestreet,Samgrabsmy

handandlaceshisfingersthroughmine.Staringstraightaheadto
avoideyecontactwithanyofthecreepy,lifelikeclowns,wemakeour
waythroughtheyardanduptheporchsteps,pausinginfrontofthe
door.

Samletsgoofmyhand,restshispalmsonmyhugestomach,and

smilesdownatme.

“Whataretheoddsourchildwillgrowuptobecompletelynormal

andnotatallbatshitcrazy?”heasks.

“Slimtonone,”Iimmediatelyreply,placingmyhandsontopofhis,

oursmilesbroadeningwhenwefeelalittlekickfrominsidemybelly.

“Atleastyou’rehonest,”Samlaughs.

“I’malwayshonestaboutthecrazinessofmyfamily.Just

remember,yousignedupforthisshit.Youagreedtotakemeforbetter
orforworse,insicknessandinhealth,andtoprotectmefromclowns
fortherestofyourlife.”

“Idon’tremembertheclownpartofourvows,”Sammuses.

“It’sarecentaddendum.Sogetyourassmovingandgetmethehell

awayfromthesethingsorI’lltakeyouwithmewhenIgetonthebusto
crazytown.”

Chapter2:BabiesDoNotGoinOvens

Sam

“Everyone,payattention!I’mbringingthismeetingtoorder,soshut
thehellup!”

“Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch,ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah.”Noelischantingthe

creepythememusicfromFridaythe13thunderherbreathwhenher
bestfriend,SchevaOliver,yellsateveryone.

SchevaandNoelwerebestfriendsinhighschool,butlosttouch

whenNoelmovedawayfromOhiotoliveinSeattle.AssoonasNoel
movedbackhome,theChristmassheandImet,herfriendshipwith
Schevapickeduprightwhereitleftoff,andthetwobecame
inseparableagain.WeintroducedSchevatomybestfriend,AlexRose,
lastValentine’sDay,andwhatstartedoffasaflingquicklyturnedinto
somethingmore.AfterSchevaannouncedatEasterthatshewouldbe
marryingAlex,Noelstartedhumming“herecomesthebride”
wheneverSchevaenteredtheroom.Now,asmywifehasbecome
increasinglymoremiserableandcrankyduringthelasttrimesterof
herpregnancy,andSchevahasturnedintoabridezillaoncrack,it’s
saferforeveryoneinvolvedifNoelletsoutherfrustrationsby
channelingMichaelMyers.

Youknow,singinghisthemesonginsteadofgoingonamurderous

rampage.

Ilovemywifemorethananythingelseinthisworld,butshe’sbeen

scaringtheshitoutofmelatelywithhermoodswings.Noonewillbe
happierthanmewhenshefinallygivesbirth.Don’ttellherIsaidthat,
though,orshe’llprobablystabmeinthethroatwhileIsleep.

“I’vecalledeveryoneheretonightsowecandiscuss,andmakeany

finalchangesto,theoutfitsyou’llbewearingnextweekend.Atmy
wedding.ThemomentIofficiallybecomeabride.Theonedaywhere
everyonewillbepayingattentiontome.Andthelastperfect,amazing
dayI’lleverhavefortherestofmylife,”Schevaannounces,tossingher

longblondhairoveroneshoulder.

“Um,hello?Marriedtothisguyfortherestofyourlife,”Alex

remindsher,pointingbothhisthumbstohischest.

NoellikestocallAlexandmetheyinandyangofhotguys.We’re

prettymuchthesameheightandhavethesamemuscularbuildthanks
tothemilitary,butwhereIhaveshortdarkhair,Alex’sisshortand
blond.IstillthinkI’mbetterlookingthanheis,andmakesuretotell
himthatonaregularbasis.AlexandIhadsimilarchildhoods.Weboth
lostourparentsatayoungageandweretossedaroundthesystem
untilweturnedeighteen,whenwejoinedtheMarines.Oursimilar
livesforgedabondthatIcan’tbreak,nomatterhowmuchheirritates
mesometimes.WhenIintroducedAlextoNoel’sfamily,they
immediatelywelcomedhimintothefoldandmadehimoneoftheir
own,muchlikethey’ddonewithScheva.

EventhoughScheva’sparentsarealive,they’veneverreallygivena

shitabouther.Assoonassheturnedeighteenandmovedout,they
startedtravelingtheworldandforgottheyhadadaughter.Noel’s
familymaybecrazy,butthey’vetakeninallofusorphansandmadeus
apartoftheirfamilywithoutasecondthought.

“Yeah,yeah,whatever,”Schevasighswithawaveofherhand.

“Happilyeverafterandallthatshit.ButI’vebeendreamingabout
beingabrideallmylife,andit’salmostover.I’llneverhaveanything
tolookforwardtoeveragain.”

“Boy,marriageisgoingtobefun!”Alexrepliessarcastically,which

earnshimaglarefromhisbride-to-be.

“Marriageishardwork,”Bev,Noel’smother,announcesfromthe

othersideoftheroom,wheresheisbusilyrearrangingtheorange
pumpkinlightshangingacrossthefireplacemantle.“Ihopeyourups
anddownsareonlyinthebedroom.”

“Ew,gross,”Noelwhispers,herlipscurlingindisgust.

“Getit?Upsanddownsinthebedroom?Becausewhenyou’re

havingsexyourbodiesmove—”

“OhmyGod,Mom,wegetit.Stop.Don’tmakemethrowupmy

dinner,”Noelcomplains.

“There’snothingwrongwithahealthysexlife,Noel.Howmany

timesdoweneedtohavethisdiscussion?Ifyourfatherweren’tsucha

tigerinbed,Iwouldhavedivorcedhimalongtimeago.Andhefound
thisnewwebsitecalledTumbleswherehe’sgottenalotofnewmoves.
HaveyouheardofthisTumblesthing?”Bevlightsavotivecandleand
walksovertothecoffeetableinfrontofus,stickingitinsideasmall,
carvedpumpkininthemiddleofthetable.“Youshouldtryit.”

“Bev,mylove,it’scalledTumblr,notTumbles.Andnowyoujust

ruinedmyfavoritewebsite,picturingyouandReggielookingatporn
beforeyougetyournastyon.”Noel’sAuntBobbietossesbackherthird
martini,theshortblondwigshe’swearinggoingallaskewwhenshe
whipsherheadbacktofinishthedrink.“Sam,comeoverhereand
comfortme,”shecontinues.“Letmefondleyourpumpkins.”

Noel’sAuntBobbiewasherUncleRobertuntilhiswifelefthim

whenshecaughthimtryingonherclothes,andherealizedhewas
muchhappierbeingawoman.WhenIfirstmetAuntBobbie,she
reachedoutandgrabbedmydickinsteadofshakingmyhand.She
toneddownherflirtingandsexualinnuendoswithmewhenNoelandI
gotmarried,butobviouslythisweddingisstressingeveryoneout
lately.

“I’mnotwearingwhatyoupickedoutforme,”Noelsuddenlysays

toSchevawithahuff,crossingherarmsandpouting.

“Whatareyoudoing?Doyouwanttogetusallkilled?!”Alex

whispers,staringatherwithwideeyes.

“It’saHalloweenwedding,andyou’rewearingacostume,”Scheva

growls.

“Yousaidthiswasameetingtodiscussanyfinalchangestothe

outfits.Well,I’mmakingafinalchange.I’mNOTwearingthecostume
youpickedoutforme,”Noelargues.

“Youwillwearitandyouwilllikeit!”

“Youmademeacardboardboxyouexpectmetowear,paintedlike

anoven,withapictureofababyinsidethatrestsrightovermy
stomach.YOU’RECOOKINGABABY!”Noelscreams.

“IT’SABUNINTHEOVEN,ANDIT’SCUTE!”

“IT’SNOTABUNINTHEOVEN.IT’SANACTUALBABYINTHE

OVEN.BABIESDONOTGOINOVENS!”

“DON’TPISSMEOFFORI’LLMAKEYOUWEARTHAT

FLUORESCENT-GREENTAFFETAMATERNITYPROMDRESS
WITHTHEGIANTPUFFYSLEEVESIFOUNDATGOODWILL!”

“Youwouldn’t!”Noelfiresback,attemptingtopushherselfupfrom

thecouch,herbellygettinginthewayandmakingherfallbacktothe
cushionsfivetimes.Isitnexttoheranddonothingbutwatch.

Icouldbeagentlemanandhelpherupfromthecouch,butthenI’d

justbeconvictedofaidingandabettingwhenNoelfinallygetstoher
feet,chargesScheva,andchokeshertodeath.

Noelfinallymanagestopushherselfupfromthecouchand

waddlesovertoScheva,gettingrightinherface.

“I’mNOTdressingupasanoven.”

“Yes,youare.IalreadyboughtSam’schefcostumesoyoutwo

match,andit’stoolatetochangetheentirethemeofyourmatching
costumes,”Schevaargues.

“I’mdressingupasasluttywitch,orasluttykitten,oraslutty

devil,justlikeIdoeveryyear,andyou’renotgoingtostopme!”

“Thisissohot,”Alexwhispersashewatchesourwomenscreamat

eachotherfromhisspotnexttome,perchedontheedgeofthecouch.

“That’smypregnantwifeyou’retalkingabout.”

Alexshrugs.“Yeah,so?Pregnantpornishot.Don’ttellmeyou’ve

neverwatchedit.”

“You’redisgusting.”

“Thankyou,”hereplieswithasmile.

“ALLRIGHT!THAT’SENOUGH!”Reggiebellows,walkingintothe

livingroomandhandingafreshmartinitoAuntBobbiebefore
crackingopenthecanofbeerinhisotherhand.“Noelhasalready
ruinedourfamilynamebynotdecoratingfortheholidaysoverthelast
year,Idon’tneedtheneighborsgossipingmoreaboutusbecausethey
canhearyoutwoscreamingaboutcookingbabiesandsluttykittens.”

Heturnshisangrylookinmydirection,andIcowerbackintothe

seatcushions.ReggieblamesmeforNoel’srefusaltodecoratethe
outsideofourhouseforanyholidayssincelastHalloween.Noonein
thisneighborhoodwouldevenknoworcarethatwehaven’tdecorated,
sincewelivethirtyminutesaway,butthatdoesn’tmattertoReggie.
Noelbecamealittlesuperstitiouswheneveryholidaywespent

togetherafterwefirstmetturneddisastrous.

WemetinanairportbarafewdaysbeforeChristmas,andshe

convincedmetocomehomewithherandpretendtobetheboyfriend
she’drecentlybrokenupwithafterheproposedtoher.ButIgotshot
withaBBgunwhenwetouredthehousefromAChristmasStory,and
AuntBobbiewassohighondrugs,shewasconvincedshesawa
squirrelwearingasweater.

ThenyouhaveourfirstValentine’sDay,whenBevbroughthomea

strippernamedPinkytolivewiththem,andeveryonethoughtPinky
swallowedNoel’sengagementringandthey’dhavetowaitforherto
shititouttogetitback.NottomentionAuntBobbieaccidentally
givingNoelEcstasyinsteadofXanaxbeforeabigjobinterview,which
resultedinNoelattemptingtostripanddanceintheofficeofher
interviewer.

AndtherewasourfirstFourthofJuly,ourweddingday,wherewe

werestalkedbyahalf-dead,pissed-offzombiecatnamedTurd
Ferguson,afewstrayfireworksalmostburntmydickoff,andNoel’s
weddingdresswentupinflameslikeabarnfullofdryhay.

Tosaywe’vehadsomeveryeventfulholidaysisputtingitmildly.

Noeldecided,startinglastHalloween,thatwewoulddowhateverwe
couldtoignoretheholidaysinthehopesthatthiswouldeventually
bringusgoodluck.Itseemedtowork,too,untilthispastEaster,when
Noelfoundoutshewaspregnantandtriedtosurprisemewithnotes
hiddeninEastereggs.ButherdrunkAuntBobbieandevendrunker
bestfriend,Scheva,foundthenotesandswitchedthem,andhersweet
wayofannouncingthenewsturnedintothemostawkward
conversationaboutanalsexthatanyonehaseverhad.

“Dad,ItoldyouwhyIhaven’tdecoratedfortheholidays,giveita

rest,”Noelsayswithasigh.

“Andlookwhathappened!Yougotknockedupandnowyouhave

todressuplikeanoven,”Reggiegrumbles.

“Prettysurethat’snotwhatcausedmypregnancy.”

“ITWASANIMMACULATECONCEPTION!”Reggieshouts.

“Canwepleasebringthisbackaroundtothewedding?MY

wedding?Thehappiestdayofmylife,andthedayallofyoupeoplewill
doexactlyasyou’retoldandwearexactlywhatI’vepickedoutfor

you?”Schevainterrupts.“Samwillbedressingasachef,Noelwillbe
dressingasagoddamnovenandwillnotbitchaboutitonemoretime,
AuntBobbiewillbedressingasBarbraStreisand—”

“Igettosingatthereception,right?”AuntBobbieinterrupts.“I’ve

beenpracticing‘YouDon’tBringMeFlowers,’andtheladiesfrom
DragQueenBingowillbedisappointedifIdon’tsingit.”

SchevacontinueswithoutacknowledgingAuntBobbie.“AndReggie

andBevwillbedressedasapriestandanun.”

“Howmanyfucksgiven?NUN!”Alexcheerswithhisfistintheair.

“Now,weonlyhaveaweekleftuntilthewedding.Wehavetreat

bagstomake,pumpkinstocarve,orangelightstostring,andallof
thosegod-awfulclownstoremovefromthefrontyard,”Schevatellsus.

JustlikeNoelandI,SchevaandAlexhavedecidedtohaveasmall,

intimateweddinginBevandReggie’sbackyard.Here’shopingtheir
weddingdoesn’tendwithatriptotheemergencyroominthebackof
anambulanceandthird-degreeburnsonanyone’sjunk.

“THOSECLOWNSSTAY!”Reggieyells.“I’vealreadygotaplan

readyfortheweddingday.Assoonasyouaskedifyoucouldhavethe
weddinghere,Istartedcollectingusedweddingdresses.Allofthe
clownswillbedressedforthefestivities,andmydisplaywillremain
intactforthejudgingceremony.”

Yes,becausenothingsays“happyweddingday”likeclowns

dressedupasbrides.

Noelstompsbackovertothecouchandflopsdownnexttome.I

wrapmyarmaroundhershouldersandpullheragainstmyside.

“You’regoingtobethesexiestovenanyonehaseverseen,”I

whisperinherear.

“Forgetaboutcookingababy.I’mgoingtochopoffyourballsand

cookthoseinstead.”

DidImentionhowhappyI’llbewhenthisHalloweenweddingis

overandourbabyisfinallyoutofmywife’sbody?

Chapter3:Apple-ButterLube

Noel

“Ican’tbelieveyou’rejustnowtellingmethis.Also,you’readumbass.”

Ipausefromgrabbingasmallpumpkinoutofthebininfrontofme

toglareatScheva.

“I’mnotadumbass.AndIdidn’twanttobotheryouwithit.You’ve

gotalotgoingonrightnow,”Iexplain,puttingthepumpkinintothe
wagonnexttome.

Schevadecidedlatelastnightthatshedidn’thaveenoughsmall

pumpkinsforthetablecenterpiecesatthewedding,andshesentout
anS.O.S.textatmidnightthatwewerealltomeetheratourlocal
pumpkinfarmtostockup,firstthingthismorning.

Whilemymomanddadarebusyinthefield,pickingoutafew

extra-largepumpkinsfortheirfrontyard,andAlexandSamare
occupiedinoneoftheoldfields,afewacresaway,watchingthe
pumpkinlaunchershootpumpkins,SchevaandIfinallyhavesome
alonetimeinfrontofthemainbuilding,atthebinsofsmallpie
pumpkins.

“Youcan’tpossiblythinkSamischeatingonyou.Again.Didn’twe

alreadygothroughthisbefore?Andbesides,hefearsyourfathertoo
muchtoevercheatonyou,”Schevareassuresme.

“Fine,Idon’tthinkhe’scheatingonme,buthe’sdefinitelykeeping

somethingfromme.He’sbeenactingweirdlately.Andyouknowall
thatovertimehe’sbeenworking?Iwentuptothebasetheothernight
totakehimdinner,andtheguardatthegatetoldmehelefthours
earlier.”Igrabanotherpumpkinfromthebinandputitintothe
wagon,ontopofthepilewe’vealreadyaccumulated.

“AuntBobbiehasbeenactingweirdlatelytoo.Well,weirderthan

usual.MaybeshefinallyconvincedhimtostartgoingtoDragQueen
Bingowithher.IbetSammakesaverylovelywoman,”Schevasays

withalaugh.

Shewalksovertothewagon,picksupthehandle,andstartspulling

ittowardthecashieratthesideofthebuilding.Ifollowalong,walking
nexttoher.

“It’sprobablyjustmyhormonesmakingmecrazy,right?Imean,

maybetheguardwaswrongandSamreallywasthere.”

“DidyouaskSamiftheguardwaswrongandhereallywasthere?”

Schevaasks,stoppingbythecashierandpullingherwalletoutofher
purse.

“OfcourseIdidn’taskSam,areyouinsane?!I’mmuchhappier

thinkingtheworstsothatwhenthetruthfinallydoescomeout,Ican
bepleasantlysurprisedthatallmyfearswerewrong,likeanormal
humanbeing,”Itellher.

“Youmeanlikeaneurotichumanbeing.”

“Samedifference,”Ishrug.

“Allright,someoneneedstobackuponeoftheirvehiclestothe

frontofthebuildingandhelpmeloadmyhaul,”AuntBobbiestates,
comingovertostandnexttoSchevaandme.

AuntBobbiedisappearedassoonaswearrivedtobrowseinsidethe

pumpkinfarm’sstore.Theysellallsortsofhomemadegoodies,like
appleandpumpkinpies,applecider,andfreshlymadepumpkin
donutsfromtheirbakery.

AuntBobbiepullsamasonjaroutofthepursehangingfromher

shoulderandholdsitupforthecashiertosee.It’sgotapinklabel
wrappedaroundtheglassthatsaysSteph’sAppleButter.

“What’sthecinnamoncontentinthis?”sheasks.

“Averysmallamount.Justadash,really.Enoughforflavor,”the

womanreplieswithasmile.

“Excellent.Cinnamonburns.Iknowthatfromexperience.Adash

shouldbejustfine.I’lltakeseventy-fivejars,”AuntBobbieinformsher
beforeshovingthejarbackinsideherpurse.

Thewoman’smouthdropsopeninsurprise.

“AuntBobbie,whatinthehelldoyouneedseventy-fivejarsof

applebutterfor?”Schevaasks,hernosescrunchedupinconfusion.

AuntBobbielaughs.

“You’reright.WhatwasIthinking?That’sjustcrazy!”

Thecashier’sfacerelaxesuntilAuntBobbiecontinues.

“Makeitahundred.Youcanneverhavetoomuchapple-butter

lube.”

Schevaquicklythrowsawadofcashonthecounterandthanksthe

cashier,bothofusgrabbingAuntBobbie’sarmandpullingheraway
beforethecashierpassesoutandourfamilygetskickedoutofyet
anotherpublicplace.

“Heeeeey!Ineedtopayformyapple-butterlube!”AuntBobbie

protestsloudly,causingabunchofpumpkin-farmpatronstolookin
ourdirection.

“Oh,don’tlookatmelikethat,SuzieStick-Up-Her-Ass!”sheyells

atawomanwhohasstoppedinthemiddleofthewalkwaytogawkat
us.“Ibetyourhusbandknowswhat’supwithapple-butterlube.”

Themanstandingnexttothewomanblushesandquicklylooks

awayfromus.

“Yeah,that’sright.You’veslatheredsomeapplebutteronyour

netherregionbefore,admitit!”

MomandDadcomewalkinguptous,eachcarryingalarge

pumpkinintheirarms,asSchevaandIdoourbesttoshushAunt
Bobbieandsmileapologeticallyatthepeoplewatchingthishorrific
sceneunfold.

“Whyiseveryonestaringatus?”Momasksasshesetsherpumpkin

downbymyfeet.

“Oh,nobigdeal.AuntBobbieisjustmakingsurewe’renever

allowedtocomewithinahundredyardsofthisplace,”Imutter.

“Dammit,Bobbie!We’realreadynotallowedtogotoTargetand

Starbucksanymore.Andwe’vebeenbannedfromtwoHomeDepots
becauseofthatincidentwiththeleafblower,”mydadcomplains.

“It’snotmyfaulttheworkerdidn’tunderstandthesuckingpower

ofamachinehesellsinhisownstore,Reggie.Andit’salsonotmyfault
heallowedmetodemonstrateusingthecrotchofhispants.HowwasI
supposedtoknowtherewasanemergencykillswitchthatwouldhave
preventedhispenisfrombeingcoveredinsomanypoppedblood

vesselsthatthethinglookedlikeabloodynightmare?Heshouldhave
knownhisproductbetter,”AuntBobbieprotests.

“Takingapictureofitwithyourcellphonewhentheambulance

arrivedwasalsoprobablyabadidea,”Iremindher.

“Ineededproofofthedangersofleafblowerstosendtocorporate!”

shesayswithastompofherfoot.

“Allright,asfunasallofthishasbeen,weneedtogetthese

pumpkinshomesotheguyscanstartcarvingthem,”Scheva
announces.

“I’mnotleavingwithoutmyapple-butterlube,”AuntBobbiepouts,

crossingherarmsoverherchest.

“Ooooooh,youcanuseapplebutteraslube?Reggie,maybewe

shouldgetafewcases,”mymommuses,smilingatmyfather,whohas
movedafewfeetaway,lookinganywherebutatoursmallgroup,
pretendinglikehedoesn’tknowus.

Schevastartstodragherwagonofpumpkinstowardtheparking

lot.AuntBobbiestompsawaywithher,andmymothercontinues
tryingtoconvincemydadtheyshouldstockuponapplebutter.Isend
aquicktexttoSamthatwe’regettingreadytoleave,andhereplies
immediately,tellingmehelovesme,andthatheandAlexwillmeetus
outbythecars.

Likealways,IfeellikeanidiotforthethoughtsI’vebeenhaving

aboutmyhusband.I’msurehe’sjustbeenactingmoreoutofsorts
thanusuallatelybecausehe’sanxiousaboutthefactthatwe’reabout
tobecomeparents.Myfamilyprovidesenoughinsanityinourdaily
lives;Idon’tneedtoaddtoitbymakingupissuesthataren’teven
there.Ireallydohavethebesthusbandintheworld.Ifweweren’tstill
gettingdirtylooksfromhalfofthestaffrightnow,I’druninsideand
pickupafewjarsofSteph’sAppleButtermyself,forus.Maybebythe
timeHalloweenrollsaroundnextyear,itwillbesafetocomeback.

Chapter4:It’sSoTingly

Sam

Awadofpumpkingutssmacksmeintheface,andIglareatAlexashe
setsdownhisdrillandstaresatthepumpkininfrontofhim.

“Isitreallynecessaryforyoutouseapowertooltocarvethese

pumpkins?”Iask,swipingtheglobbymessoffmycheekandflickingit
ontomynewspaper-coveredkitchentable.

“I’vealreadycarvedseventeenpumpkins,andyou’reonlyonyour

third.I’dsayhavingapowertoolisanecessity,”heanswers,standing
backtolookathiswork.

“Allyou’vedoneisdrillagiantholeinthecenterofeachone.At

leastI’mputtingeffortintomineandgivingthemfaces,”Ireply,
holdingupthegap-toothedjack-o’-lanternIjustfinished.

“It’snotagianthole.It’sagloryhole.I’mmakingthesepumpkins

multifunctionalforthemaleguests,sincegoingtoaweddingfora
dudeishellonearth.Theycanenjoythesoftglowofthecandleinside
ofitduringdinner,ortheycantakeonetothebathroomandhavea
littlein-and-outfun.Peoplewillthankme.”

Shakingmyheadathim,Iwalkovertothesinkandstartwashing

someofthegoooffmyhands.

“I’mprettysureyourbride-to-bewillnotbethankingyouwhenyou

explainwhatyou’vedone.”

AlextossesmeatowelwhenIturnaround,andIbegindryingmy

handsashestartsloadingthecarvedpumpkinsintoafewlargeplastic
containersthatwecanpackintomytruckandtakeovertoReggieand
Bev’slater.

“Speakingofthankingme,youdidn’tevengivemeanygratitudefor

thegiftIbroughtyoutoday,”hecomplains.

“Thesepumpkinslookdumbandugly.”

WebothturntolookatTia,thesix-year-oldgirlsittingatmytable,

whostareswithannoyanceatthepumpkinsAlexputsintothe
container.

“I’msupposedtothankyouforvolunteeringustobabysityour

neighbor’skid?”IwhispertoAlexasIcomeupnexttohim.

“Childrenareadelight—especiallyyou,Tia,isn’tthatright?”Alex

asksherwithahugesmileonhisface.

Tiajumpsdownfrommychair,walksuptoAlex,andkickshim

rightintheshin.

“SONOFAFUCKINGBITCH!”heshouts,bendingatthewaistand

grabbinghisleg.

“Yousaidabadword.I’mtellingmymommy!”Tiascoldsbefore

stormingoutofthekitchen,herblondpigtailsswishingbackandforth
asshegoes.

“ISAIDTWOBADWORDS!ATLEASTICANCOUNT!”Alex

shoutsafterher.

“Realmature,”Imutterwithashakeofmyhead.

“Fine,notallchildrenareadelight,butyoushouldstillbethanking

me.SchevatoldmethatNoelthinksyou’vebeenactingweirdlately,
andthatitmightbebecauseyou’rescaredaboutyourimpending
fatherhood,”Alexexplainsaswestartcleaningupthemesscovering
mykitchentable.“Youcan’ttellmethiswasn’tabrilliantidea.Itwill
giveyoualittlepracticeonhowtohandlekidsbeforethebigday
arrives,soyoudon’tfuckeverythingup.”

“Gee,thanksforthevoteofconfidence.AndI’mnotnervousabout

becomingafather.YouknowexactlywhyI’vebeenactingweirdlately,
sobabysittingdutywasn’tnecessary.”

AlexistheonlyonewhoknowsaboutthesurpriseI’vebeen

planningforNoel,andthatI’vebeenbustingmyasstogetitfinished
beforeshehasthebaby.I’mhonestlysurprisedhehasn’tletthecatout
ofthebag,consideringthisguyusuallycan’tkeepasecrettosavehis
life.

“Youdorealizethatonceacertainsomeonefindsoutwhatyou’ve

done,you’reprobablygoingtohavetochangeyournameandenterthe
witness-protectionprogram,right?”Alexasksasherollsupthe

pumpkin-guts-fillednewspaperandtossesitinthetrash.

“It’snotgoingtobethatbad,”Itellhim,eventhoughIknowitis.

It’sgoingtobebad.Horriblybad.I’mjusthopingI’llbeforgiven

andthey’llseehowgoodthiswillbeforeveryone.Eventually.Like,
maybebythetimeourchildgoestocollege.

“Where’sTia?”Iasksuddenly,peekingoutofthekitchendoorway

andnotseeingherinthelivingroom.

“Probablyrunningwithscissors,watchingpornonYouTube,and

lightingthingsonfire.She’llbefine.”

Withasigh,IleaveAlextofinishcleaningupmykitchenwhileIgo

insearchofthelittlegirl.Imightnotknowalotaboutkids,butIdo
knowyoushouldneverleavethemunattendedforlongperiodsoftime,
andthatsilenceneverequalsanythinggood.

Luckily,myhouseisn’tthatbig,andIfindherinthemaster

bathroom,rightoffmyandNoel’sbedroom.

“Oh,no,”ImutterassoonasIwalkintheroom.

Tialooksupatmefromwhereshe’sperchedontheedgeofthetub,

andhereyesimmediatelyfillwithtears.Irushtohersideandsquat
downnexttoher.

“Imean,ohno,Ican’tbelieveyou’rehavingfunwithoutme!”Ilie.

Shesmilesupatmeandfinishessquirtingthelastofanentire

bottleofshampoointothetubbeforestandingupandpointingatit.

“Getin.”

Istareatherinconfusion.

“Um,what?”

Shesighsheavily.

“Isaid,getin.Takeabath.”

Glancingdownintothetub,Iwinceatthemountainofgoopthat

she’sdumpedintotheJacuzzitub,severalsectionsofitstartingto
bubbleandhiss.I’veneverseenshampoodosomethinglikethis,andit
makesmealittlenervousthinkingabouteverythingshecouldhave
dumpedintherealongwiththehair-cleaningproduct.

“Idon’tthink—”

“GETINTHETUBRIGHTNOW!”shescreams,withastompof

herfoot.

“Okay,okay,I’mgoing!”Iquicklyreply,hoppingovertheedgeof

thetub,myfeetsinkingintothemess,whichsqueezesbetweenmy
toes.Thefeelingmakesmewanttothrowupinmymouthalittle.
“See?Lookatmeinthetub!Wheeeeee,thisisfun!”

Istomparoundalittleasshewatchesme.WhenIstarttoclimb

backout,sheblocksmyway,herhandsonherhips.

“Sitdown.TakearealbathorI’lltellMommyyousaidbadwords.”

“Ididn’tsaybadwords,yourneighborAlexsaidbadwords!”I

complain,throwinghimunderthebusandcursinghimundermy
breathforputtingmeinthissituation.

Hereyesstarttofillwithtearsagain,andthistime,herlowerlip

startstoquiver.

Fuckinglipquiver.HowamIsupposedtoignorealipquiver?

Withasigh,Islowlysinkdownintothetub,regrettingtheactionas

soonasmyassgetsswallowedupbythemess.

“Doesn’titfeelgood?”Tiaaskswithasmile.

“Yep!Itfeelsgreat!Reallytingly.Whatexactlydidyouputinmy

bath,sweetheart?”Iaskasnicelyaspossible,clenchingmyteethto
stopmyselffromscreaming.

Tiawalksovertothecabinetunderthesinkandstartspullingout

emptybottlesandtossingthemontothefloornexttothetub.
Shampoo,conditioner,shavingcream,bleach,peroxide…well,that
explainsthetingling.

ShecontinuesthrowingoutbottlesandIquicklyrealizethatmaybe

Idoneedacrashcourseinparenting.Obviouslychildrenshouldn’t
haveaccesstoanyoftheseproducts.AndobviouslyI’mpayingformy
mistake,becausethetinglinghasnowturnedtofull-onburning,which
meansit’sdefinitelytimetopanic.

“Tia,honey,Ineedyoutocallnine-one-one,”Itellherascalmlyas

possiblewhilemyballsfeelliketheyarebeinglitonfire.

“NINE-ONE-ONE!”Tiascreamsatthetopofherlungs.

“NOTOUTLOUD,ONTHEPHONE!”Iscreamback,forgettingall

abouthowIshouldn’tfreakoutinfrontofherandscareher,even
thoughmyballsfeelliketheyaremeltingrightfrommybody.

“MOMMYSAYSI’MNOTALLOWEDTOUSETHEPHONE,

DUMMY!”Tiaargues,rollinghereyesatmelikeI’manidiot.

“Whatisallthescreamingabout?”Alexasks,pokinghisheadinthe

bathroomdoor.“Dude,areyoubathinginfrontofmyneighbor?I
thinkthat’srulenumberoneforThingsYouShouldn’tDoinFrontof
Kids.Andyouthoughtyoudidn’tneedtolearnhowtobeaparent.”

AlexmovesintothebathroomandscoopsTiaupinhisarms.

“HowaboutwegointothelivingroomandIputonIt’stheGreat

Pumpkin,CharlieBrownsoSamcanfinishwhateverkinkythinghe’s
doingonhisown?”

“What’skinkymean?”Tiaaskshimashecarriesheroutofthe

room.

“I’llgetbacktoyouonthatwhenyou’reeighteen.”

Assoonasthey’regone,Iquicklystandup,pulltheplug,andturn

ontheshower,notevenbotheringtoremovemyclothesasIscrubthe
toxicshitoffofme.

Ittakesthirtyminutesandthreeshowersformyballstofinallystop

burning,butatleastthatgivesmesomethingtoworryaboutother
thanthesurpriseI’vebeenplanningforNoel.

Chapter5:TheBabyKnows

Noel

Haveyoueverbeeninthemiddleofhavingsexwithsomeoneand
foundyoucan’tstopyourmindfromwandering?

DidIremembertopaytheelectricbill?

Arewealmostoutofmilk?

DidIcallmymotherbackwhensheleftmeavoicemail?

IsSamnotmakinganynoisebecauseI’vecrushedhimwithmy

giantbelly?

NotthatI’mdoinganyofthosethingsrightnow,seatedontopof

myhusbandinourbedwhilehethrustshishipsup.Myhusbandis
gorgeous,andhe’sthebestsexI’veeverhad,butI’mtoobigand
irritableandscatterbrainedtoevenpretendI’menjoyingit.

“Allright,spititout,”Samsayssoftlywhenhestopsmoving,

slidinghishandsupmybarethighsandrestingthemonmyhips.

“That’snotwhatyousaidlastnight,”Ijoke,tryingtolightenthe

moodinsteadofbringingitdownwithmyinsecuritiesandcrazybrain.

“Haha,”hedeadpans.“Comeon,Iknowsomethingisbothering

you.Doweneedtohaveanotherintervention,whereItellyouallthe
waysyourpregnantbodyisbeautifulandhowIstillthinkyou’resexy?”

Hehelpsmeliftmyselfupandoffofhim,andIlaydownonmy

backnexttohim,staringupattheceiling.Samturnsonhisside,
proppinghimselfononeelbowandsupportinghisheadinonehand
whiletheotherrestsonmystomach.Hestaresdownatme.

“No,Idon’tneedanotherpregnancyintervention.I’msorry,my

headisjustallovertheplacerightnow.”

“Thebabycannotseemypeniscomingtowarditsface,wealready

Googledthatshitandfoundoutitisn’ttrue,”Samremindsme.

“It’snotthateither.Butdidyouknowthebabycanfeelmyorgasm?

It’slikeasenseofeuphoriaforthem.That’sweird.Ourbabyishaving
orgasmsinthewomb.Ourbabyishavingorgasmsbeforeitcanwalk
ortalk.Isn’tthatweird?Doesn’tthatcreepyouout?”

Thisisnotatallthethoughtthatwasrunningthroughmyhead,

butIdon’twantmyhusbandtoknowIfeelgrossandugly,because
he’lljustthinkI’mbeingsilly.

“Itdidn’tfivesecondsago,butthanksforgivingmethatimage

rightbeforeIgotosleep,”Samcomplains.

“I’msorry,”Iapologizeagain,turningonmysideandrestingmy

handonhischest.“IthinkI’mjustfeelingalittleoffbecauseit’s
almostHalloweenandwedon’thaveonedecorationup.Iknow,I
know,itwasallmyidealastyear,butthisismyfavoriteholiday.And
wedon’thaveonepumpkinoranycornstalksonthefrontporch.And
itstillkindofsucksthatwedon’tgetanytrick-or-treaterslivingway
outhereintheboonies.”

“Honey,wecandowhateveryouwant.Ifyouwanttomake

Halloweenthrowupalloverthishouse,we’lldoit.Andwealwaysgo
toyourparents’housefortrick-or-treatersanyway,soitdoesn’teven
matterthatwedon’tgetanykidshere,”Samremindsme.

He’sright,andIdon’tknowwhyI’mbeingallemoaboutthisallof

asudden.Myparents’street,asidefromhavingaHalloween
decoratingcontest,goesalloutonHalloweennight.Everyonesetsup
tablesandchairsandfirepitsintheirdriveways,andtheneighbors
spendthenightgoingfromhousetohouse,votingonwhichhousehas
thebestdecorations,sharingfoodanddrinkseveryonehassetout,and
havingafuntimehangingoutinbetweenpassingoutcandytoallthe
kids.

It’sprobablybecauseofthatstupidhouseacrossthestreetfrommy

parents.Knowingsomeoneelseislivingthereandwillgettoenjoythe
funthatisHalloweennightrightintheirownfrontyardisdepressing.
ButSam’sright.Wegothereeveryyear,andthisyearwillbeno
different,eventhoughitwillbethedayafterAlexandScheva’s
wedding,andaweekbeforeI’mduetogivebirth.

IstareatSam’sfaceandforthefirsttimeseejusthowexhaustedhe

looks.He’sbeenworkingatonofovertimelately,leavingthehouse
beforethesuncomesupandcominghomelongafterit’sgonedown

mostnights.IfeelbadthatI’mmakinghimfeelbadaboutwherewe
live.Thisisagreathousetoraiseababy,andI’mjustgoingtohaveto
dealwiththefactthatwe’rethirtyminutesawayfrommyfamilyand
I’llalwayshavetogothereifIwanttoenjoythefunoftrick-or-treat
night.

“Firstthingtomorrow,I’llgooutandgetusabunchofpumpkinsto

carveandcornstalkstoputonthefrontporch.AndbeforeIleave,I’ll
bringallofyourboxesfullofHalloweendecorationsdownfromthe
atticsoyoucangocrazyaroundthisplace.Soundgood?”Samasks.

Givinghimasmile,Ipushmyselfup,andwithafewgruntsand

sighsandalotofeffort,Iclimbbackontohislapandrockmyhips
againsthimuntilIfeelhimstarttogrowhardagainbetweenmy
thighs.

“HaveItoldyoulatelyhowmuchIloveyou?”Iask,liftingmybody

afewinchessoSamcanreachbetweenusandlinehimselfup.

Isinkdownonhimandwebothgroan.

“Yes,butIdon’tmindyoutellingmeagain,”Sammutters,hiseyes

flutteringclosedasIswivelmyhipsandhejerkshisuptomeetme.
“Oh,shit.Dothatagain.”

Idoasheasks,wishingmyhugebellyweren’tinthewaysoIcould

lookdownandseehimmovinginsideme.

RightwhenmymindfinallyclearsofallthenonsenseandIcanfeel

myreleasestarttocreepuponme,thebabykicks,andmybodyjerks
toahalt.

“What’swrong?Whathappened?Areyouokay?”Samasks,hiseyes

flyingopenashelooksupatmewithworry.

“Thebabykicked,”Iwhisper.

“Um,okay?”

“ThebabyknowsIwasalmostreadytohaveanorgasm,”Iwhisper

again.

“Thebabydoesnotknowyouwerealmostreadytohavean

orgasm,”Samsayswithasigh.

“Thebabyknows.Ican’tberesponsibleformybabylearningabout

orgasmswhenitcan’tevenspeaktotellmetostoptalkingabout
orgasms,”Icomplain.

“It’slikeyouwantmetothrowupinmymouthrightnow,”Sam

mutters.

“I’msorry.I’llmakeituptoyou.Whenthisbabyisoutofmeandis

nowherenearmyorgasms,everythingwillbefine.”

“Youcanmakeituptomerightnow.Letmedothatthing,”he

demands.

Samgentlyliftsmeoffhisbodyagain,movingoutfromunderme

andsittingupinbednexttomeasIgruntandhuffandpositionmyself
untilmybackisleaningupagainsttheheadboard.

“No.Absolutelynot.Itoldyoutoneveraskmeifyoucoulddothat

again.ThatwasNOTfunforme,norwasitapleasurableexperience,”I
remindhim,crossingmyarmsinfrontofmeandrestingthemonmy
hugebelly.

“I’llgoslowerthistime.Ipromiseyou’lllikeit.”

“Yousaidthatlasttime,anditendedinmecryingandhavingto

takefiveshowers,”Iargue.

Hismouthturnsintoapout,andhebatshiseyelashesatme.

“Please,Noel?Prettyplease?IpromiseI’llneveraskyoutodothis

again.Iknowit’smorefunformethanitisforyou,butI’llbequick.It
willbeoverbeforeyouknowit,”hebegs.

ConsideringIjustruinedhisevening,Ihavenochoicebuttogive

in.

Samletsoutawhoopofexcitementandscramblesoffthebedto

graballofthenecessarysupplies.

Truetohisword,he’squickandit’soverbeforeIknowit.Thereare

noscreamsofprotestorcryingfrommethistime,justalookof
completeannoyancethatIdon’tevenbotherhidingfrommyhusband.

“Okay,allfinished.Shit,baby.You’resocute.Idon’tknowwhyyou

won’tletmetakeapicture.Yourmotherwouldlovethis.”

LiftingmyheadfromthepillowswhereIscooteddowntolethim

dohisthing,Istareatmyhugebelly,nowcompletelycoveredin
orangepaint,withajack-o’-lanternfacedrawnonwithblackpaint.

“Stopgivingmethatlook.You’readorable.Thisiswhathappens

whenyou’regoingtohaveababyrightafterHalloween,sodealwithit.

ThisisallIhavetoliveforrightnow.Don’truinit,”Samscolds,unable
tokeepthesternlookonhisface,hisdimplespoppingoutashestares
atthemasterpiecehejustpaintedonmystomach.

IknowIshouldprobablythinkthisiscute,butitjustmakesmefeel

evenmoreunattractive,knowingmystomachresemblesagiant,
plumppumpkin.

“Fuckit.I’mtakingapicture,”Sammutters,reachingovertograb

hiscellphonefromhisnightstand.

“Iwillshovethatthingupyourassifyoutakeapictureofmy

stomachrightnow,”Ithreaten.

“Toolate,”Samsayswithasmile,pressingacoupleofbuttonson

hisphoneuntilIhearawhooshsound,lettingmeknowhejustsent
thedamnthingtoGodknowshowmanypeople.

Insteadofthrowingafit,Igetupoutofbedandheadtothe

shower,quietlyplottinghisdeathasIturnonthewaterandletitwarm
up.

“Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch,ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah,”Istartchanting.

“IHEARDTHAT!”Samshoutsfromtheothersideofthedoor.

“STOPDOINGTHAT.IT’SFREAKINGMETHEFUCKOUT!”

Withalaugh,Igetintotheshowerandstartscrubbingthedamn

pumpkinoffmystomach,lookingforwardtogettingintothe
Halloweenspirittomorrowandforgettingallaboutmystupid
superstition.AlexandSchevaaregoingtohaveafun,awesome
wedding,we’regoingtohangoutatmyparents’housefortrick-or-
treatandhaveanamazingtime,andSamandIwillcelebrateanother
holidaywithoutanymishaps.Icanfeelit.

Chapter6:Phteven

Sam

“Sorry!IknowI’mlate,justgivemetwosecondstowashupreally
quickandthenwecango,”ItellNoelasIrushintothekitchenwhere
she’sseatedatthetablewithherlaptopinfrontofher.

ShetipsherheadupandsmilesatmeasIleandownandgivehera

quickkissonthelips.

“It’sfine.I’mjusttryingtofinishupsomework.”

Ipauseforaminutetostareatherasshefiddlesaroundonher

computer.Shelooksexhausted,andIfeellikethebiggestassinthe
worldforbeingawayfromhersomuchlatelyandforkeepingasecret
fromher.IhatethatshethinksI’vebeenworkingallthisovertime
latelyandfeelsbadformewheneverItellherI’mtired.I’mdeceiving
mywife,andrightnow,itdoesn’tmakemefeelgood.

“Isthatabeaver?”Iask,leaningdownclosertolookatherlaptop

screen.

“It’sawombat.Andyes,IPhotoshoppedawombat,theShamWow

guy,andtheVirginMaryintoourfamily’sChristmaspicturefromlast
year.Don’tjudgeme.I’mtryingtogetmycreativejuicesflowingsoI
cangetasmuchworkdoneasIcanbeforeIgoonmaternityleave,”she
tellsme.

NoelgotajobworkingforSeductionandSnackstwoyearsagoon

Valentine’sDay.It’sahugecompanywithchainsallovertheU.S.One
sidesellssextoys,andtheothersideisabakery.TheyhiredNoelto
designinappropriategreetingcardsfortheirstores.Thepopularityof
Noel’scardsgrewsoquickly,theownersmadeherapartnerlast
Easter,changedthenameofthestoretoSeductionandSnacksand
Salutations,andletheraddwhatevershewantedtotheline,likeT-
shirts,pens,notepads,andabunchofothershit,allwithinappropriate
sayingsonthem.

“Whatisallthatstuff?”Noelasks,lookingawayfromherlaptop

andnoticingthetwohugeduffelbagsIbroughthomefromwork.

“Don’task.Yourdadcalledmeearlierinapanic,askingmeto

bringabunchofstuffhomeforhim.He’stakingthisHalloween-
decoratingcontesttoanextremelevel,”Itellher.

“Ifhedoesn’twinthatthingthisyear,we’reallgoingtosuffer,

Sam.”

Iswallowpastthelumpinmythroatandletoutanervous,high-

pitchedlaugh.

“Whywouldn’thewin?He’stotallygoingtowin.Everyoneknows

he’sgoingtowin.Hewinseveryyear.Whywouldthisyearbeany
different?He’sgoingtowin.Shouldweupdateourpassportsjustin
case?I’veheardBelizeisaniceplacetolive,”Iramble.

Noelstaresatme,herbrowfurrowedquestioningly.

“Areyouokay?Ifyoudon’twanttogotomyparents’housetohelp

puttogetherthetreatbags,Icancallmymomandmakesomething
up.”

Ilaughagain,allweirdandgirly,wonderingwhyinthehellIcan’t

justlaughlikeafuckingmanwhenI’mnervousandhidingsomething
frommywife.

“I’mfine!Excellent.Everythingisgood.Givemefiveminutesto

jumpintheshowerandthenwecango.”

GivingNoelakissonthetopofherhead,Ileavehertoher

wombatsandShamWowguyandheadtothebathroom,hopingshe’s
notgettingsuspiciousandthatmysurprisewillstillbeasurprise,even
thoughnowI’mstartingtoworrythatonceeveryonefindsoutwhat
I’vedone,thisfamilywillgoahellofalotmoreinsane.

***

“Getyourshittogether,Sam!Ithoughtyousaidyou’ddonethisbefore.
Stopactinglikeapansy-asslittlegirl!”Reggiewhisper-yellsasourfeet
crunchthroughtheleavesandwegingerlystepoverpumpkinsand
extensioncords.

“IHAVEdonethisbefore.INAFUCKINGWARZONE,notfor

breakingandentering!”Iwhisperbackangrily.

WhenReggiecalledmeatworkearlierandtoldmetobringover

night-visiongoggles,tacticalvests,camoface-paintsticks,aKa-Bar
knife,andcombathelmets,Ithoughtheneededtheseitemsfor
anotherasininedecoratingideaforhisfrontyard.Ihadnoidea,when
NoelandIgotherefordinnerandtohelpputtogethercandybagsfor
weddingfavorsandtrick-or-treat,thatReggiewoulddragmeoutto
thegarage,makemesuitup,andthreatentocutoffmyballsifIdidn’t
doexactlyashesaid.

“Istillcan’tbelieveyoudidn’tbringtherifles.TheONEthingItold

youwasmostimportant,andyouconvenientlyforgotthem,”he
complains.Iletoutagroanwhenhekicksajack-o’-lanternoutofthe
way,cavinginthefrontoftheintricatelycarvedthing.

“Thattooksomeoneovertwohourstocarve,andyoujustruined

it!”Icomplain.“AndImaybeanidiot,butI’mnotdumbenoughto
giveyoualoadedweapon.”

Reggiecrouchesdownbehindashrub,grabsmyarm,andyanksme

downnexttohim.Sincethesunsetoveranhourago,the
neighborhoodisshroudedindarkness,makingmefeellikeI’minthe
middleofascarymoviegonewrong,andthataderangedkillerwillany
minutejumpoutfrombehindanearbytreeandtrytokillus.

“Youhavenoideahowlongthatugly-assthingtooktocarve.It

lookedstupidandIputitoutofitsmisery.”

“ItwasanexactreplicaoftheDVDcoverofTheNightmareBefore

Christmas.Itwasartisticandgenius,”Imutterlikeapetulantchild.

“DoyouneedMidol?Areyouonyourmanperiod?Quityour

bitchingandgetyourheadinthegame.We’reheretoseewhatkindof
lowlifescummovedintothishouseandistryingtotakemytitleaway
fromme.”

Ican’tbelievethisiswhatmylifehasbecome.Iusedtobeastrong,

badassMarine.NowI’mwearingtacticalgear,myfaceiscoveredin
camopaint,andI’mlurkinginshrubberywithmyinsanefather-in-
law,hopingnoneoftheneighborscatchusandcallthecops.

“Obviouslythesepeoplearen’tlowlifescum.Lowlifescumwouldn’t

decorateforHalloweenwithsuchattentiontodetailandfantastically
lifelikefigurines.”

Reggieglaresatmeoverhisshoulderbeforeshufflingawayfrom

meinacrouchedposition.

“Whatareyoudoing?!Getbackhere!”IwhisperloudlyasReggie

walksrightthroughthelandscapingonthesideofthehouseandupto
oneofthewindows.

Ihavenochoicebuttofollowhim,studyingmysurroundingsasI

lookforneighborsoutoneveningwalks,orcopsdrivingbytomake
sureacrazymanwearingatacticalvestoverhiswife’spink,frilly
bathrobeisn’tattemptingtobreakintoahouse.

WhenImakeituptoReggie,theorangeglowofthelightsstrung

aroundtheframeofthewindowhighlightshisface,givinghisprofilea
creepylook.Hecupshishandsaroundhiseyesandleansforward,
pressingthemagainstthewindow.

“Thereisn’tevenanyfurnitureinthere.They’veownedthishouse

foramonthandthere’snofurniture.Ibetthey’reserialkillersand
they’reusingthishousetodismemberthebodiesinthebasement,”
Reggiemutters.

“Yes,becauseserialkillersalwaysgetintotheHalloween-

decoratingspirit,”Ireplysarcastically.

“Ibettheyroofietheirvictimsatalocalbar;puttheminthebackof

awhite,nondescriptvanwithdirtywindowsthatsomeonewrotethe
wordpenison;pullintothegarageandclosethedoor;dragthe
unconsciousbodyinsideanddownintothebasement;andputitonto
ametalhospitaltable.Thentheyputonwhitebutcheringapronsand,
usingaknifefromPaulaDeen’sWalmartcollection,chopupthebody,
startingwiththefingersandfinishingwiththeears.Thentheystore
everythinginHalloween-themedZiplocbagsinsevenchestfreezers,”
Reggiesays.

“Thatwasstrangelyspecific…andhorrifying.”

“I’vehadalotoftimetothinkaboutthis,”hereplies.

“Clearly.Canwegobackacrossthestreetnow?I’dmuchrather

watchAuntBobbiegetdrunkandtrytoputpotcookiesintothekids’
treatbagsthanhavetoexplaintothepolicethatyou’renotasociopath
whodreamsabouthowhisneighborschopuppeopleandputthemin
baggieswithpumpkinsandghostsonthem.”

Reggiesighsandfinallypullshisfaceawayfromthewindow.

“Fine.We’llgohomefornow,butthisisn’tover,”Reggiecomplains

aswesneakbackthroughtheobstaclecourseofthefrontyard,

dodgingpumpkinsandotherdecorationsaswego.“Thesepeoplehave
declaredwar.Ifawariswhattheywant,awariswhatthey’llget.
EveryoneonthisstreetlovesmeandmyHalloweendecorations.I’m
notgoingtoletsomeserialkillersruinmylife’swork.”

“YoumeaneveryonebutSusan,whocalledBevtodayandtoldher

thathersonhadaclownnightmarelastnight,”Iremindhim.

NoelcalledmeatworkrightafterBevcalledhertotellherabout

Susan,becauseNoellikestobringmedowntoherlevelofmisery
whenevershehastodealwitheitheroneofherparents.

“Ican’thelpitifhersonisasissy.He’llhavealotmoretocryabout

whenhefindsouthe’slivingdownthestreetfrompeoplewhowill
kidnaphimandcutoffhisfingers.”

“JesusChrist,”Imutteraswecrossthestreetandmakeourwayup

totheporch.“Never,eversaythatoutloudagain.Idon’thaveenough
moneysavedforyourbailortohireareputabledefenseattorney.”

Assoonaswewalkinthefrontdoor,Noelcomesintothefront

hallwayfromthelivingroom,stoppinginhertrackswhensheseesher
fatherandme.

“DoIevenwanttoask?”

Ishakemyhead.“Definitelynot.”

“Youmarriedadipshit,Noel.Hewouldn’tevenletmecarryarifle,”

Reggiecomplains.

“Noel,weneedmoreSnickersforthe—”

Bevjoinsusinthehallandstopsnexttomywife,herwordscutting

offassoonasshelooksup.

“It’snotwhatitlookslike,”Itellher.

IhavenoideawhyIsaidthat.It’sexactlywhatitlookslike.Itlooks

likewejustputontacticalgearandfacepaintandwentcreeping
throughtheneighbor’syard.

“Oh,Sam,youdon’thavetobeembarrassed.It’sabouttimeReggie

toldyouhowhelikestodressupasG.I.Joewhenweroleplay.”She
smilesatmebeforeturningtowardherhusband.“Honey,didyoutell
himabouthowyoumakemepretendtobeyourcommandingofficer
andIgettoyellatyouandgiveyouorders?”

Reggiegroans,Noelgrimaces,andItrymyhardestnottorun

screamingbackoutthefrontdoor.

“HelikesitwhenImakehimbark,”Bevwhispersconspiratorially,

givingmeawink.

“Jesus,Beverly!Isnothingsacredinthishouse?”Reggie

complains.

Justthen,thefrontdooropensbehindus,andweallturntosee

AuntBobbiestumbleinwithanungodlyamountofmakeupsmudged
alloverherfaceandwipedoffinrandomplacesonthesparklyblack
dressshe’swearing.It’sonlyeighto’clockandshealreadylookslike
she’sbeenonanall-nightbender.

“Bobbie,whatintheworldhappenedtoyou?”Bevasks,rushingto

hersidetohelpherstand.

“ItwasaroughnightatDragQueenBingo.Idon’tremembermuch

aboutwhathappenedafterthefifteenthround,”shetellsus.

“Thefifteenthroundofbingoorofdrinks?”Noelquestions.

“Bacon!”AuntBobbieanswers.

“Reggie,gomakeBobbiesomecoffee.Sweetie,areyougoingtofeel

uptohelpingwiththetreatbagstonight?”Bevaskshersoftly.

“PHTEVEN!”AuntBobbieshoutsasBevwrapsherarmaroundher

waistandhelpsherwalkdownthehallandintothelivingroom,
movingaroundtheshit-tonsofKitKats,Reese’sPeanutButterCups,
Twixbars,Heathbars,bubblegum,andBlowPops.ShedepositsAunt
Bobbieontothecouch.

“What’saphteven?AuntBobbie,areyouhavingabrainaneurism?

Doyouneedmedicalattention?”Bevasks,bendingdowntostareinto
AuntBobbie’sglassy,unfocusedeyes.

“It’sStevenwithaPH!BACON!”AuntBobbieshouts.

“SweetJesus,shelookslikeaclownthatjustwokeupafteragang

bang,”Schevastates,lookingupfromherspotonthefloor,whereshe’s
alreadystartedassemblingbags.

“Inlocalnewstonight,therehavebeenseveralrecentsightingsof

anindividualdressedupasaclown,wanderingneighborhoodsand
frighteningpeople.Thepolicehaveyettoascertainifthispersonis
justhavingsomegoodoldHalloweenfunorisagenuinethreattothe

community.Pleasestayvigilant,andifyouseeanyonedressedupas
aclown,callthelocalpolice.Backtoyou,Richard.”

We’reallstaringatthetelevisioninthecorneroftheroomwithour

mouthswideopenwhenReggiewalksinwithasteamingmugofcoffee
inhishand.

“See,Dad?Itoldyouclownswereevil!”Noelremindshim.

“Areyoutalkingaboutthatstupidnewsreportthey’vebeen

runningallnight?Poppycock.Bunchofhorseshit,ifyouaskme.
Peoplegettingscaredoverclowns…Clownsbringjoyandlaughter
intopeople’slives.Whatisthisworldcomingtowhenpeopleareafraid
ofsomethinglikethat?It’sgoingtohellinahandbasket,that’swhat’s
happening,”Reggiecomplains.

HehandsAuntBobbiethecoffee,pushingituptohermouthand

forcinghertodrinkitastherestofusstareoutthefrontwindow,
wonderinghowthehellwe’llbeabletotellarealkillerclownfromthe
clownsalloverthedamnfrontyard.

Chapter7:SmellThesePills

Noel

I’msettingasmall,carvedpumpkininthemiddleofatablewhena
BraxtonHickscontractionhitsme.Igrabmystomachandfocusonmy
breathing.

“Youokay?”

InodatSchevaasshewalksover,takingafewdeepbreathsuntil

thetightnessinmybellyfinallygoesaway.

“I’mfine.Justgettingthesestupidthingsmoreandmorelately,”I

tellher,glancingaroundtheyardandchangingthesubject.“Thisplace
looksamazing.Wedidaprettyawesomejob.”

Schevasmilesinagreementaswetakeinthetransformationofmy

parents’backyard.SinceScheva’sparentssuckandcouldn’tbe
botheredtocomehomefromtheirvacationinBarbadosforthe
wedding,naturallymyparentsimmediatelyagreedtohavethe
weddinghere.SchevaandAlexrentedthesamegiantwhitetentthat
SamandIusedforourwedding.Underneathitisabunchofround
tableswithdarkbrowntablecloths.Inthecenterofeachtableclothisa
clusteroffakeleavesineveryfallcolor,andnestledonthosearejack-
o’-lanternscontainingcandleswe’lllightrightbeforetheguestsarrive,
intwodays.Wedecidedtoseteverythinguptoday,insteadof
tomorrow,sowewon’tbeexhaustedrushingaroundthedaybeforethe
wedding,scramblingtogeteverythingready.

Mydad,Alex,andSamstrungorangelightsallaroundtheceilingof

thetent,andbowsmadefromorangeandbrownplaidfabricaretied
aroundthebacksofallthechairs.MymomandAuntBobbieare
currentlystickingblackwrought-ironstakesintothegroundallaround
theouteredgeofthetent.Thestakesaretoppedwithsmallorange-
glasspumpkins,whichwillalsoholdlitcandles.

It’sbeautifulandnotover-the-topcrazywithdecorations,likeI

initiallyimagineditwouldbewhenSchevaannouncedshewanteda
Halloweenwedding.

“Honey,areyouokay?Youlookalittlepale,”mymomstatesasshe

walksupnexttouswithaboxoftreatbagsforustostartputtingat
everyplacesetting.

“JustsomeBraxtonHickscontractions,I’mfine.”

I’mexhaustediswhatIam.Sam,truetohisword,broughtoutall

ofmyHalloweendecorationstheotherday,andIimmediatelywentto
workputtingoutpumpkinsandghosts,hangingleafgarlandsfrom
everydoorway,andstringingorangeandpurplelightswhereverI
couldfindroom.AndnowI’vebeenhereallday,helpingSchevaget
readyforherweddingwhenwhatIreallywanttodoistakeanapwith
agiantcontainerofcookie-doughicecream.

Momsetstheboxdownonthetableinfrontofusandgivesmea

sternlook.

“Youshouldbetakingiteasy.Didn’tyoulearnanythinginthat

WhattoExpectWhenYou’reExpectingbookIgaveyouatthestartof
yourpregnancy?”

“Yes.Ilearnednottojumponatrampoline,smokemeth,orhandle

afirearmwhilepregnant,”Ideadpan.

“Allexcellentsuggestions,”Schevamuses.

“Didyoureadthechapterabouthavingmoresextoinducelabor?

AreyouandSamhavingenoughsex?YourfatherandIdiditatleast
threetimesadaywhenIwaspregnantwithyou.Thisonetimeheeven
usedaspatulato—”

Iholdupmyhandtostopherfromtalking,hereyes—thesame

brightgreenshadeasmine—blinkinginconfusionwhenIcutheroff.
Withherlongredhairpulledbackintoalowbunthatshedoesn’teven
needtotouchupwithcolortohidethegrays,wecouldeasilypassfor
sisters.Thethoughtthatmychildwillbeblessedwithgoodgenes
makesmesmiletomyself,beforeIrealizeIwasgettingreadytoscold
mymotherandnowisnotthetimefordistractions.

“Mom,howmanytimesdoIhavetotellyoutostoptellingme

aboutyourandDad’ssexlife?Adaughterdoesnotneedtoknowthese
thingsabouthermother.Ever.”

“Willyoutellyourdaughteraboutthesethings?”sheaskswithan

excitedsmile.

“Nicetry.Notfallingforit.We’renottellingyouwhatwe’rehaving

becausewedon’tevenknowwhatwe’rehaving,”Iremindher.

Mymomhasnotbeenpleasedthatwehaven’tfoundoutthesexof

thebaby.Sheinsistswe’vebeenlyingtoherthiswholetimeandreally
doknowwhatwe’rehaving.Iknowit’sunusualinthisdayandagenot
tofindout,buttherearen’tthatmanysurprisesinlife.SamandIwant
toenjoyeveryminuteofthedayourchildisborn,includingthe
momentwhenthedoctortellsuswhat’sbeengrowinginsideofmefor
thelastninemonths,wreakinghavoconmybodyandmakingmefeel
morepsychoticthanusual.

“Regardless,IthinkyoushouldjusthavemoresexwithSam.Itwill

putsomecolorbackintoyourcheeksandremovethatpermanent
scowlfromyourface,”Mominformsme.

“It’scalledarestingbitchface,Bev,”Schevaaddswithasmile.

“Kissmyass,fucktruck,”Imutter,givingherthefinger.“Youtry

carryingaroundanextrathirtypoundsofweightandfeelinglike
you’resweatingfromeveryinchofyourbody.Mythighsaresweating,
mybackissweating,mypitsaresweating,myvaginaissweating….
I’msweatingfromplacesIdidn’tevenknowcouldsweat.”

Schevascrunchesupherfaceindisgust.

“Nothankyou.Youcouldn’tpaymeenoughtopushahumanoutof

mybodyandruinmyvaginaforever.Howdoesthatthingevengoback
tonormalaftersomethinglikethat?Youknowhow?Itdoesn’t.Ever.
It’sjustabunchofloose,flappyskinthatgetsinthewayandscares
penises,”Schevasays,thoughsheimmediatelyclampshermouthshut
whensheseesthelookofhorroronmyface.“Imean,forother
women,”shecontinues.“Notyou,obviously.You’llhavetheperfect
birth,andtheperfectvagina,andyourlifewillbeawesome!”

Sheholdsupherpalmformetogiveherahighfive,droppingit

afterafewsecondswhenIrefusetosmackmyhandwithhers.

“Bobbie!Whatdidyoudotothesetreatbags?”Momsuddenlyyells

asshebusilypawsthroughtheboxonthetable.

SchevaandImovecloser,peeringintotheboxasMombringsout

oneofthebags,digsaroundinside,andpullsoutahandfulofpills.

“AretheseXanax,Ecstasy,orpotpills?Noel,smelltheseandtell

mewhattheyare,”sheorders,stickingherhanduptomynose.

“That’snothowyouknowthedifferencebetweenpills,Mom.And

howinthehellwouldIknowthedifferenceanyway?”

“Doyoureallywantmetobringupthedayyoutriedtotakeoff

yourclothesduringajobinterview?”sheasks.

“IWASROOFIED!THATWASN’TMYFAULT!”Iscream.

“Andthetimeyouateapotcookieandpeedstandingup?”she

adds.

“Iwasusingashe-funnel,anditwasconvenientandtime-saving,”I

informher.“Besides,thatwasthenightIwasdrunk.ThenightIatea
potcookie,SamandIhadsexonyourwashingmachine,hefounda
pairofcrotchlesspantiesthatwereyours,andwebothalmostcurled
upinthefetalpositionandneverhadsexagain.”

Mymomwipesanimaginarytearfromhereyeandsmilesatme.

“Youhadsexonawashingmachine?Youreallyaremydaughter.I

wassoproud,upuntilthecrotchlesspantiespart.They’reverysexy
andfreeing.I’llbuyyouapair.”Shedropsthehandfulofpillsintothe
boxandgrabsherphonefromthetable.

“Donotbuymeapair.”

“I’mbuyingyouapair.IbettheyhavethemonAmazon.Theyhave

everythingonAmazon.Igotyourdadasslesschapswithtwo-dayfree
shipping,”shestates.

“What’salltheyellingabout?You’rekillingmybuzz,”AuntBobbie

complains,comingupnexttouswithafullmartiniglassinherhand.

“Bobbie,didyouputpotpillsinthetreatbagsfortheguests?”Mom

asks,settingdownherphoneandforgettingallaboutbuyingme
crotchlesspanties,thankGod.

“Whatthehellarepotpills?Andno,Imostcertainlydidnotput

anythinglikethatintothetreatbags,”Bobbiereplies,takingasipof
herdrink.

Momreachesbackintotheboxandgrabsthepills,holdingthem

outforAuntBobbietosee.

“Oh,okay,yeah.Itotallyputthoseinthere.”

Sheleansdownandsniffsthepillsinthepalmofmymom’shand.

“Yep,thoseareEcstasy,”AuntBobbieconfirms.

“See!Iknewyoucouldsmellthedifference,Noel!”Momscoldsme.

“Seriously?That’swhatyou’reworriedaboutrightnow?Aunt

Bobbietriedtoroofieanentirewedding!”

“Andpossiblytheneighborhood.Wemightwanttocheckonthe

treatbagsweputasideforthekids.Also,Ican’tfindthepotbrowniesI
hadinaTupperwarecontainerinthefridge,”AuntBobbieadds.

Weallstareatherforafewseconds,noneofusabletocomeup

withanythingtosaythatwillmakethesituationanybetter.

“What?”sheasks.“Soafewkidsgetalittlehigh.Thereareworse

thingsthatcouldhappen,likeakillerclownontheloose.Lookatitthis
way:Ifhecreepsintheirbedroomwindow,theywon’tevencare!”

Withagroan,weallmakeourwayuptothehouse,eachofus

grabbingboxesoftreatbagssetasidefortheguests.Wenowhaveto
gothroughthemall,aswellasthemorethanthreehundredtrick-or-
treatbagsinsidethehouse.

ItakebackeverythingIsaidaboutwantingtoliveclosertomy

parents.Whoeverboughtthehouseacrossthestreetcanhaveit,along
withmysympathies.

Chapter7:ButtholeMeat

Sam

“That’sit.Theweddingiscancelled!”Alexannounces,walkingintothe
livingroomandthrowinghimselfdramaticallyontothecouchashe
staresatthecellphoneinhishand.

Everyonestopspickingpills,potbrownies,loosepennies,random

piecesofAuntBobbie’smakeup,andtravel-sizedbarsofsoapand
shampoooutofthetreatbagswehavestrewnalloverthelivingroom,
andlooksatAlex.

“Theweddingisintwodays.Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Scheva

asks,pushingherselfupfromthefloor,walkingovertothecouch,and
snatchingthephoneoutofhishand.

“Iftheweddingiscancelled,canIstillkeeptheweddingdresseson

alltheclownsinthefrontyard?Ievenaddedveilstohalfofthem.That
wasalotofworkandI’mnotruiningitnow,”ReggieasksBev.

“Ican’tpossiblygetmarried.Mylifehaslostallmeaning.My

dreamshavedied,”Alexcomplains,restinghiselbowsonhisknees
anddroppinghisheadintohishands.

“Areyouupsetjustbecauseofthissillyemail?”Schevaasks,still

staringathisphone.

Alexlooksupandglaresather.

“It’snotjustANYemail.It’sanemailfromUrbanDictionary.THE

UrbanDictionary.Therulerofallthingsawesomeontheinternet.
Theykilledmyhopesanddreams,Scheva.Doyounotunderstandthe
severityofthissituation?HowcanIpossiblybeagoodhusbandwhen
Ican’tevenbeagoodUrbanDictionary-er?”Alexasks.

“Isthatevenaword?”

“DON’TYOUJUDGEME,SAM!DON’TJUDGEMEUNTIL

YOU’VEWALKEDAMILEINMYSHOESORRECEIVEDA

REJECTIONEMAILTHATHASBROKENYOURHEART!”Alex
shouts.

“Sotheyrejectedaworddefinitionfromyou.It’snottheendofthe

world,”Noelinformshim.

“I…you…how…SHITBALLS!”Alexyells,pointinghisfingerat

her,unabletospeakinanykindofcoherentway.

“WhatisthisUrbanDictionarything?Isitfilledwithstreetslang?

I’vebeentryingtousethewordthugmoreofteninasentence.Ireally
thinkit’smakingadifferenceinmylife,”Bevtellsus.

“It’stheHolyGrailofeverything,Beverly!”Alexstates,throwing

hishandsintheairinfrustration.“Andthey’vedeniedmeentry!”

“OhmyGod,”Schevagroans.“Youseriouslytriedtosubmitthe

phrasebuttholemeattothem?”

“It’sanotherwordforpoop,Scheva,andit’sgenius!Don’tshiton

mybuttholemeat!”Alexargues.

NoelandIbothlaugh,quicklyhidingouramusementwhenAlex

looksatusangrily.

“Ievenprovidedthemwithadefinitionandverywell-thought-out

sentence,justliketheyasked.‘BethwasmadwhenChrislefthis
buttholemeatinthetoilet.’Itwasperfectandinformative,andthey
deniedmyword!”

SchevatossesAlex’sphoneontothecouchcushionsnexttohim

andwalksbackovertotherestofus,takingbackherspotonthefloor
toresumecombingthroughtreatbags.

“Youhaveexactlyfiveminutestomournthelossofyourexclusion

fromUrbanDictionary,andthenyouneedtogetyourassbackto
work.Therearestillpumpkinstocarveandillegalnarcoticstoremove
fromtreatbags,”Schevaannounces.

Alexgetsupfromthecouchandstompsoutoftheroomtowardthe

kitchen,whereapileofpumpkinsiswaiting,alongwithstacksof
newspaperstocatchalltheguts.

Weallworkquietlyuntilsomeoneringsthedoorbell.Bevgetsupto

answerit,andafewminuteslater,walksinwithTodd,oneofthe
neighbors.

“Hi,everyone,sorrytointerrupt,”Toddtellsuswithasmile.

“Well,hellothere,Todd,”Reggiesays,speakingthenamewith

contemptashestaresatthemanstandinginthedoorwayoftheliving
room.

IlookatReggiequestioningly,andheleansclosertowhisperinmy

ear.

“Toddlivesontheothersideoftheserialkillers.Iaskedhimthe

otherdayifhe’dseenanyonecomingandgoing,maybewithawhite
van,butheclaimedhehasn’tseenanything.Iknowhe’slying.Ican
seeitinhiseyes.They’reallsquirrelyandshifty.StupidToddwiththe
shiftyeyes.”

IlookawayfromReggieandtheidioticwordscomingoutofhis

mouthtolistentoToddwhenhestartsspeaking.

“Justwantedtotellyoufolksthatmywifesawthatclownlurking

aroundourhouselastnight,theonethey’vebeentalkingaboutonthe
news.Iwasatthestoreandshegotspookedandcalledthecops.
ThoughtI’dgiveyouguysaheads-upincasetheycomeoverhereand
askanyquestions.Damnthingsscarethehelloutofme.Whyanyone
thinksclownsarefunnyisbeyondme,”Toddstates.

“Thereisnothingwrongwithrednoses,polka-dotclothing,andbig

redshoes,Todd!”Reggieinformshimangrily.

“Okay,well,thankyouforlettingusknow,”Bevinterrupts,

grabbingTodd’sarmandpullinghimoutoftheroom.“We’llbesureto
keepaneyeout.TellLindatogivemeacall.Poordearmustbejust
besideherself.”

“SISSY!”Reggiescreams,justasBevgetsToddtothedoorand

practicallyshoveshimoutofit.

WhenBevcomesbackintotheroom,Reggieisalreadyupfromthe

floorandstalkingpasther.

“Whereareyougoing?Westillhaveaboutahundredmorebagsto

gothrough.”Bevaskshim.

“I’vegotatwelve-foot-tallRonaldMcDonaldsculpturetofinish

painting.Then,I’mgoingtowalkovertoToddandLinda’shouseand
pissontheirfrontlawn,”Reggieinformsherashestompsdownthe
hallwaytothekitchenandthedoorleadingouttothegarage.

“Myweddingisgoingtoberuined!”Schevawails,buryingherface

inNoel’sshoulder.

“Nonsense.Yourweddingisnotgoingtoberuined.Theremightbe

aclownburnedineffigyonourfrontlawn,butyourweddingwillbe
fine,”Bevreassuresher.“IfSamandNoelcansurvivethedisasterof
theirweddingdayandlivetotellthetale,youcansurviveclownsand
Reggieangeringalltheneighbors.We’lljusthireextrasecurity.And
maybeuninviteafewoftheneighbors,justtobesafe.”

Schevastartscryingharder,andNoelpatsherbacksoothingly.

“It’sallfunandgamesuntilyoubuzzkillsmakemeremoveallthe

goodstufffromthetreatbags,”AuntBobbiecomplains,stickingher
handintooneofthebagsandpullingsomethingout.“Ooooooh,that’s
wheremypurplebuttplugwent!Sam,checkthebagsoverbyyou.I’m
stillmissingtwentyPercocets,asparklynecklacethatsayswhoreonit,
andthreesetsofanalbeadsthatglowinthedark.Idon’twantsome
kidtomistakethosethingsforglow-sticknecklaces.Talkabout
awkward.”

Iimmediatelydropthebaginmyhandandpushmyselfawayfrom

thebagsallaroundmylegs.NothingsaysHalloweenlikegettingthree
Snickersbars,aKitKat,andasetofusedanalbeadstoweararound
yourneck.

Chapter8:HungStocking

Noel

“It’sfromtheenemyandthey’retryingtogetinourheads…weaken
ourdefenses,”mydadgrumblesasweallgetoutofourcarsandwalk
insmallgroupstowardthefestivities.

Insteadofatypicalrehearsaldinner,SchevaandAlexdecidedwe

shouldjustspendthenightbeforetheweddingatourtown’s
Halloweenfestival.IttakesplaceatalocalMetroPark,andthereare
foodvendors,pumpkin-carvingcontests,facepaintingforthekids,
andscarymoviesprojectedonahugescreen,withhaybalestositon.
ThewalkingtrailthroughthewoodsisalldeckedoutforHalloween,
withcandlelitjack-o’-lanternslightingthepathanddifferentscary
moviedisplaysthroughout.

“Dad,youwereBOO-zed.It’saHalloweentraditioninalotof

neighborhoods.It’sfunandit’ssweetthatyourneighborsdecidedto
startsomethinglikethatthisyear.It’snotsomeimaginaryenemy
tryingtoscrewwithyou,”Itellhimwithasigh.

Earliertoday,mymomfoundabasketonthefrontporchfilledwith

bottlesofvodka,tequila,whiskey,Fireball,twomasonjarsof
homemadeapple-piemoonshine,andfourshotglasseswithpumpkins
paintedonthem.Thebasketincludedanotethatread:

You’vebeenBOO-ZED!

Theghostsandgoblinslovetospy,

Theynoticedyourliquorcabinethasrundry!

Enjoythesespiritsjustforyou!

NothingsaysHalloweenlikeaWitch’sBrew!

Makeacopyofthisandspreadthegoodcheersoon,

Withintwonightsinthelightofthemoon!

Boozetoyou!

Eversincemymombroughtthebasketintothehouse,mydadhas

beenactingevencrazierthannormal.Hecheckedtheentirehousefor
bugs,closedalltheblindsandcurtains,andwouldn’tletanyonenear
thewindows.Heunpluggedtheirlandlinehousephoneandmade
everyonestoptalkingandwritewhattheyneededtosayonpadsof
paper.

“Noel,itsaysthey’vebeenspyingonus!Theyadmittedthey’reout

togetme.Whywouldtheydothat?It’slikesomesortofreverse
psychology,Iknowit.Theywantmescared.Theywantmeoffmy
game,butit’snotgoingtowork,”DadstatesasSamcomesupnextto
meandlaceshisfingersthroughmine.

“Areyoustilltalkingaboutthatbasketofbooze?”Samasks.“The

apple-piemoonshinewasthebestI’veeverhad.”

DadglancesoveratSamwithwideeyes.

“They’vegottentoyou,haven’tthey?They’vebroughtyouoverto

thedarkside.Ialwaysknewyou’dbetraythisfamily.”

“FortheloveofGod,Dad…”Imutterwitharollofmyeyes.

“Okay,fine.Maybehedidn’tbetrayus.Maybetheypoisonedhim

withthatapple-piemoonshinecrap.Howareyoufeeling,Sam?Alittle
woozy?Lightheaded?HowmanyfingersamIholdingup?”Dadasks,
holdingupthreefingers.

TuggingSam’shand,Ileadhimawayfrommydadbeforehecan

answer,walkingusovertothebooththatsellsticketsforthehayride.
Withaquickheadcount,Itellthewomanbehindthecounterhow
manyweneed,andSampullsouthiswallettopay.

Bythetimewemakeitacrosstheparkinglottothetractorparked

attheedgeofthewoods,climbaboardthewagonhitchedtoit,and
takeseatsonhaybales,mydadhasrunoutofsteamandfinally
stoppedbitchingaboutSambeingpoisonedandhowhe’sgoingtotake
“theenemy”down.

Oneoftheworkersstartsupthetractor,andwetakeoffslowly,

movingintoanotherareaofthewoods,separatefromthewalkingtrail.
Thisoneismorekids-orientedandhasnothingthatwillscarethem.
Thetractortakesusthroughafive-acrepumpkinpatch,filledwith

everylight-up,blow-upHalloweendecorationthereis:pumpkins,
ghosts,blackcats,Frankensteins,andwitchespoppingoutof
cauldrons.Wecountatleastahundred,andIcan’thelpbutsmileat
theexcitementonthefaceofmytwo-year-oldniece,Holly,asshe
pointsateveryoneofthemwithwideeyesandasquealofhappiness.

Placingmyhandsonmystomach,Igiveitalittlerub,imagining

howmuchfunit’sgoingtobewhenSamandIhaveourownchild,
finallyherewithus,inourarms,tocarryonthesetypesoftraditions.

“So,haveyouguyspickedoutnamesyetforyourlittlebundleof

joy?”Alexasksasweallholdontotherailingatourbackswhenthe
tractortakesasharpturn.

“We’vebeentossingafewaround,butwe’renotgoingtopickone

untilwemeetthebabyandseewhichonefits,”Samtellshim.

“Obviouslyyou’regoingtokeepwiththefamilytraditionandpicka

namethatembracesyourlastname,right?”mymomasks.

SamandIsharealook,knowingwemostcertainlyareNOTgoing

tosaddleourchildwithadumbnameliketheonesmybrotherandI
have.ThemainreasonIhatedChristmasuntilImetSamwasbecause
mynamewasNoelHoliday,anditwasdefinitelyfatewhenImetSam
Stockingthatdayintheairportbar.HealsodespisedtheChristmas
seasonbecauseofhisname.Mybrother,Nicholas,neversharedmy
hatred,andwhenhewasgrowingup,hethoughtitwasthecoolest
thingeverwhenpeoplereferredtohimasSaintNickHoliday.Whichis
whyheandCaseyhadnotroublenamingtheirdaughterHolly
Holiday.

Luckily,havingthelastnameofStockingnow,thereisn’ttoomuch

damagewecoulddopickingoutanameforourchild,unlesswenamed
thebabysomethinglikeStinkyStocking.

OrSilkStocking,FishnetStocking,HoleyStocking…shit.Iguess

thereisalotofdamagewecoulddo.Notetoself:Don’tletSammake
anynamedecisionswhenhe’sdrunkandhangingoutwithmyfamily.

“I’mpartialtothenameHung.HungStockinghasaniceringtoit.

Perfectforaboyoragirl,”Alextellsus.

“We’renotnamingourbabyHung,”Ireplywithaheavysigh.

“Fine.ButyoushouldatleastpicksomethingwithaHalloween

theme.”

Mymothernods,andeveryoneelsesilentlyagrees,including

Scheva.Thetraitor.Andthentheyallstartthrowingoutideas,each
onemorehorrifyingthanthenext,untilnooneispayingattentionto
thehayrideortheHalloweendecorationsthatwedriveby.

“Ifit’saboy,youcouldnamehimJack,middlenameO’-Lantern.”

“Noel’sfavoritemovieisTheNightmareBeforeChristmas.If

they’regoingtouseJack,hismiddlenameobviouslyneedstobe
Skellington.”

“Pumpkinisanadorablenameforagirl.Itshoulddefinitelybe

Pumpkin.”

“WhataboutCockGoblinStocking?”

“No,itshoulddefinitelybeBlumpkin.BlumpkinStocking,”Alex

adds.

“WhatintheworldisaBlumpkin?”mymomquestions.

“Blumpkinistheactofperformingfellatiowhiletherecipientis

takingadump,”Alexinformsus.

“That’sthemostdisgustingthingI’veeverheard,”Scheva

complains.

“That’sUrbanDictionary,baby.Doyouseethekindof

amazingnessIwasdenied?Iwasmeantforthatwebsite.Borntobean
UrbanDictionaryking,andI’vebeendeniedmyrightfulplaceonthe
throne,”hecomplains.

Thehayridecomestoanendwithalltheotherfamilieswhowere

unfortunateenoughtobeonthisthingwithmyfamilygivingus
strangelooksastheycontinuethrowingoutnameideas.Aswegetoff
thewagonandheadovertocheckoutthepumpkin-carvingcontest
entries,I’vefinallyhadenoughandholdupbothofmyhands.

“Allright,that’senough.Andwhilewe’reonthissubject,canwe

alsodiscusshoweveryoneneedstostarttoningdowntheirlanguage?
Thisbabyisdueinalittleoveraweek,andyouallneedtostart
learninghowtonotswearinfrontofit.Anddon’tanyofyousayone
wordabouthowI’venevermentionedthisbefore.I’mpregnantand
crabbyandIcandowhatIwant,includingmakespur-of-the-moment
decisionsaboutmychild’sfuturewell-being,”Itellthem.“Nomoref-
bombs,nomoretakingtheLord’snameinvain,noneofit.”

“Whywouldwedothat?That’sdumb,”Alexgrumbles.

“Becauseyoucan’tswearinfrontoftheforkingbaby!Thisbullshirt

stopsnow,”Iargue.

“Wedidn’thavetodothatwhenHollywasborn,didwe,sweetie?”

mydadsays,rufflingthehairontopofHolly’sheadasshewalksnext
tohim,holdingmybrother’shand.

“Wheredafuckpunkinsgo?”Hollyasks,lookingupathimwithher

sweet,innocentface.

“Okay,Iseeyourpoint,”Dadconcedes,smilingdownathis

granddaughter.“Holly,wedon’tsaythatword.It’sabadword.”

“Dafuck,dafuck,dafuck!”shechantsexcitedly,jumpingupand

down.

DadbendsdownandscoopsHollyupintohisarms,walkingaway

fromustotryandexplaintoheragainaboutwordsshecan’tuse.

Samstandsbehindme,slidinghisarmsaroundmywaistand

placingthemontopofmybellyashepullsmebackagainsthim.He
restshischinontopofmyheadaswewatcheveryoneslowlymake
theirwaydowntherowsoftablescoveredwithcarvedpumpkins,
fillingoutvotingcardstochoosetheirfavoriteones.

“Areyousureyoudon’twanttokeepwithyourfamily’stradition

andpickaholiday-themednameforourbaby?”heasksquietly.

“CockGoblinStockingisgrowingonyou,isn’tit?”Ijoke.

IfeeltherumbleofSam’slaughteragainstmyback,andIrestmy

handsontopofhisovermybelly.

“Notexactly,butIdon’treallywantyourfamilytodisownme.

They’recertifiablyinsane,butIkindoflikethem.”

Closingmyeyes,IrestmyheadbackagainstSam’schest,

wonderinghowinthehellIgotsoluckytofindamanlikehim.Ittakes
astrongmantodealwithmyfamilyandactuallylovethem.I’venever
feltmoreluckythanIdorightnowthatIconvincedhimtocomehome
withmeandpretendtobemyboyfriendthatChristmasalmostthree
yearsago.

IhaveafeelingthisisgoingtobethebestHalloweenever,andI

can’twaittokickthingsoffwithAlexandScheva’sweddingtomorrow.

Chapter9:I’minMother-ForkingLabor!

Sam

AswestandunderthetentinReggieandBev’sbackyard,Ismileto
myselfwhenNoelsqueezesthelifeoutofmyhandforthehundredth
timeinthelastfifteenminutesaswewatchAlexandSchevapledge
theirlivestoeachother.Thebrideandgroomarestandingundera
woodenlatticearchcompletelycoveredinorange,red,andyellow
mums.NoelandIstandofftotheirright,Noelunhappilywearinga
giantcardboardboxpaintedtolooklikeanovenwithamagazine
photocut-outofanactualbabycooking,visiblethroughawindowin
theovendoor.I’minachef’shatandapron.Ofcourse,thehappy
coupleisdressedasabrideandgroom,whiletherestofuslooklikewe
felloffthebackofaHalloweencostumetruck.Butsinceit’stheirday,I
won’tcomplain.

Theweathercouldn’tbemoreperfect.Thesunisshiningbrightly,

thetemperatureisinthelowseventies,andallofthetreessurrounding
thebackyardarefilledwithfall-coloredleavesthathaven’tdroppedto
thegroundyet,makingtheperfectbackdropfortheHalloween-
themedceremony.ReggieandBevsitinthefrontrow,dressedasa
priestandanun,astheywereinstructed.Andsurprisingly,every
singleguestinattendanceshowedupwearingacostume.AsIlookout
attherowsofchairsoneithersideoftheaisle,Iseeeverythingfrom
doctorsandnursestoaguyinared-and-whitestripedshirtand
matchinghat,dressedasWaldo(I’mprettyproudofmyselfforfinding
himimmediatelyintheseaofpeople,IkickassatWhere’sWaldo)—
andevenagiantplasticMr.Peanut.

“It’ssosweetyou’regettingemotionalovertheirvows,”Iwhisper

outofthecornerofmymouth,aswestandafewfeetawayfromthe
happycouple.IshootNoelasmilewhenshegivesmyhandanother
death-gripsqueeze.

“I’mnotemotional,”shesaysinalowvoicethroughclenchedteeth.

“Howcouldanyonepossiblybeemotionalwithwhatthey’resaying?”

“IpromisetonevertellyouIhaveaheadachewhenyouwantsex,

andIvowtoalwaysloveyou,evenwhenyousuggestweneedto
spicethingsupwithathreesome.”

AlexwipesatearfromhiseyewhenSchevafinisheshervows.They

quicklyexchangerings,andtheministerdeclaresthemhusbandand
wife.EveryoneseatedstandsupandstartstoclapasAlexandScheva
leaninforakiss,andIsilentlythankGodtheymadeitthroughtheir
ownweddingceremonywithoutanymishaps.

Assoonastheirlipstouch,ashrillscreampiercestheairandall

eyesunderthetentturntoseeAuntBobbieracingupthecenteraisle.
She’swearingawhite,floor-lengthsparklydresscoveredwithred,
yellow,green,andbluefeltcircles.Thedressisskintight,makingher
runlookmorelikeawaddle.Ashort,curly,bright-redwigisaskewon
topofherhead,andhernormallypristinemakeupishorrifying.Her
redlipstickiswayoutsidethelinesandlookslikeshejustdrewagiant
redcirclearoundhermouth,andshecoveredeveryinchofherface
withcakeywhitemakeupthatishalfsweatedoff,halfsmeared,leaving
someofhernaturalskintonepeekingthroughthewhitemess.

“Whatintheactualfork?”Noelmutters.

“Isshedressedlikeadragclown?ShewassupposedtobeBarbra

Streisand!”Schevacomplains.

“OhmyGod.Therearepeoplechasingher,”Imutterwithashake

ofmyheadwhenalargemobofangrypeoplecomesburstingintothe
tent,shoutingandracingafterAuntBobbie.

Theassembledguestsstarttippingoverchairsastheymakeahasty

exitoutofthetentandawayfromwhateverthehellishappeningright
now.

AuntBobbiefliestherestofthewaydowntheaisleandtakescover

behindus,duckingdownandclingingtothebackofmyshirt.

TheangrygroupofpeoplecomestoastoprightinfrontofAlex,

Scheva,Noel,andI.Puttingmyhandsupintheairinasignofpeace,I
takeastepforwardtotalktothem,withAuntBobbiestillholdingtight
tome.

“Thisisprivateproperty,andwe’reinthemiddleofawedding

ceremony.I’mgoingtohavetoaskyoupeopletokindlyleave,”I
informthem.

“Um,Sam?”Noelwhispers.

Istarttolookoveratmywifewhenoneofthemeninfrontofthe

packpointsbehindme.

“Wecaughtherredhanded!Shewasdoingitinbroaddaylight!”he

shoutsangrily.

“Mydaughterhasbeencryingforthreesolidnightsbecauseof

her!”someoneelseyells.

“Sam…”Noelsaysmynameagain,butI’mtoobusytryingtofigure

outwhatthesepeoplearedoinghereandhowtostopanyother
disasterfromruiningAlexandScheva’swedding.

“Whatthehellaretheytalkingabout?”IaskAuntBobbie,turning

myheadtolookbackather.

“So,itturnsout,I’mtheclownfromthenews.IwonderedwhyI

keptwakingupeverymorningwithwhite,cakeymakeupallovermy
faceandpillows.Ishouldprobablystopdoingdrugs,”shewhispers.

“See?!Itoldyouclownsweren’tbad!It’sjustBobbiewithacouple

ofscrewsloose,”Reggiepipesupashewalksawayfromhischairinthe
frontrowtojoinus.

Noel’shandlatchesontomyarmandsqueezeshard.

“Sam.”

Ifigureshe’sprobablyjustupsetaboutthefactthatherAunt

Bobbiehascausedariotwithherstupidity,soItakeanotherstep
forwardtotryanddefusethesituationandgeteveryonetocalmdown.

“WillyouguysgohomeandforgetthiseverhappenedifBobbie

apologizesandpromisestoneverdoanythinglikethisagain?”Iask
thecrowd.

Thereareabunchofmurmursfromthepeopleastheytalk

amongstthemselves.Afterafewminutes,oneofthewomenspeaksup.

“Wewill,butonlyifsheapologizesandyoutakedownthathideous

displayinthefrontyard.It’sscaringsmallchildren,andwe’vehadto
starttakingdetourssowedon’tdrivebythehouse.It’svery
inconvenient.”

“HORSESHIT!”Reggieshouts.“Thatdisplayisnotcomingdown

untilthevotesaretalliedtomorrownightaftertrick-or-treat.I’vegota

titletodefend!”

Thegroupchucklessoftly,andthewomanwiththedemands

speaksagain.

“Reggie,haveyouevenlookedatthedisplayacrossthestreet?It’s

thebestonewe’veeverseen!”

Oh,no.Please,God,no.

“Suchattentiontodetail.Didyouseethejack-o’-lanterns?Those

musthavetakenhourstocarve.”

“AndthegiantJackSkellington?Thatwashand-painted.Bestone

I’veeverseen.”

“Andthelittledog,Zero!Didyouguysseethathistailwags?Idon’t

knowhowtheydidit,butit’sadorable.”

“Haveyouseentheprojectorinthefrontwindows?Itplaysthe

movieagainsttheglass.That’shigh-techandawesome.”

IwatchsilentlyasReggie’sfaceturnsthecolorofatomato,andI

hopetoGodsomeoneherehasanitroglycerinpill,becausehe’sabout
twosecondsawayfromhavingafull-blownheartattack.

RightwhenReggieopenshismouthtolethellfireandbrimstone

raindownoneveryone,Noelletsoutherownbloodcurdlingscream.

“SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!”

Everyoneturnsinherdirection,andmyheartstartsbeatingoutof

mychestwhenIseehowflushedherfaceis.

“Honey?What’swrong?”

Shemumblessomethingunderherbreathasshesqueezeshereyes

closed,andInoticebeadsofsweatpoppingoutonherforehead.

“You’regoingtohavetospeakup.Andjustsoyouknow,Ican’t

takeanythingyousayseriouslyrightnowwhenyou’redressedlikea
kitchenappliance,”Alexlaughs.

“I’MINMOTHERFORKINGLABORANDMYGOSHDINGED

WATERJUSTBROKE!”Noelscreamsatthetopofherlungs.

“See?Itsoundsdumbwhenyou’renotusingrealswearwords.I

toldyouthiswasastupididea,”Alexmutters.Myeyeswideninshock
andmyjawdropswhenIlookdownatNoel’sfeettoseeasmallpuddle

ofwater.

InallthebabybooksI’veread,theytellyounottopanic.You

shouldremaincalm,haveaplan,andfollowit.Butourplanwasn’t
supposedtogointoeffectforanotherweekandOHMYFUCKING
GODMYWIFEISINLABOR!

“Whatdoyouneedmetodo?”Iaskherwhenshebendsatthe

waistandsmacksherhandagainsttheovendoorofhercostume,
whereahappybabyislyingonitsback,lookingoutateveryonewitha
gummysmile.

“GETTHISSTUPIDSPORKINGCOSTUMEOFFME!I’MNOT

GIVINGBIRTHDRESSEDLIKEANOVENWITHABABYCOOKING
AT450DEGREES!”shescreamsthroughclenchedteethasshewinces
inpainwithanothercontraction.

Everyonemovesatonce,helpingmeripthecardboardboxaround

Noelintoahundredpiecesuntilshe’sstandingnexttomeinatanktop
andyogapants,bothofherhandsflyingtoherstomachassheyellsout
inpain.

“INEEDADOCTOR!SOMEONEGETMEADOCTOR!”Iscream

atthetopofmylungs.

Nolessthanfifteenmenandwomeninscrubscomerunningupto

us,pushingpeopleoutofthewayastheygo.Irollmyeyesasthey
hoveraroundus.

“Imeantrealdoctors,”Icomplain,wonderingwhyinthehellso

manypeopledecidedtodressupasmedicalpersonnelforthis
wedding.

“Wearerealdoctors!”theyshoutinunison.

Ipointattheguystandingclosesttome.

“No,youaren’t.Especiallyyou,Greg.AlexandIworkwithyou.”

Gregfromworkmovesclosertomeandlowershisvoice,looking

backoverhisshoulderatScheva.

“Schevatolduswehadtostayincharactertodayorshe’dchopoff

ourballs.ButIsawacowbirthonTVonce.Icantotallydothis.Have
yourwifetakeoffherpantsandgetonallfours.”

BeforeIcanpunchGregintheface,Schevacomesrushingoverto

usandwrapsherarmsaroundNoel.

“Ijustcallednine-one-one.Ambulanceshouldbehereanysecond

now.OhmyGod.You’regoingtohaveababytoday!”shetellsNoel.

“Whyinthehellwouldyoucallnine-one-one?Mycarisrightout

front,”IremindScheva.

“Um,becauseIdon’thaveanyonewearinganEMSworkercostume

atmywedding,Sam.HowwillthepictureslookifIdon’thaveanEMS
workerinthemix?Jesus,getyourshittogether,Sam,”Schevamutters
witharollofhereyes.

“Iruinedyourwedding,”Noelsobstoherbestfriend.

MovingtostandinfrontofNoel,Itakeherfaceinmyhandsand

wipethetearsfromhercheeksasSchevagivesheragentlesqueeze.

“Youdidn’truinanything.Yourbuniscomingoutoftheoven.It’s

perfect!”Schevareassuresheraswehearthewailoftheambulance
sirenoutfront.

Bendingdown,IscoopNoelupintomyarms,andAlexandScheva

moveinfrontofus,clearingapathandtellingpeopletogetoutofthe
way.Theparamedicsmeetusonthesideofthehousewithagurney,
andtheyhelpmegetNoelsituatedandbuckledin.Igrabherhandand
giveitakissasIrunbesideher,thenhelpthemloadherintotheback
oftheambulance.

“Honey,we’llberightbehindyou!Makesuretheysavemeapairof

scrubsforthedeliveryroom!”BevshoutstoNoelwithawaveaswe
bothstareoutatthemthroughtheambulancedoors.

“Makesuretheysavemetheafterbirth!Ihearit’shighinprotein!”

Alexaddswithathumbsup.

ThedoorsclosewithaslamandIsitdownonthebenchnexttothe

gurney,onehandstillholdingtightlytoNoel’sasIusetootheroneto
smoothsweatystrandsofhairoffherforeheadandcheeks.

“We’regoingtohaveababy,”Iwhispertoherwithasmile,myeyes

fillingwithtears.

“We’regoingtohaveababy,”shewhispersbackastheparamedic

startsanIVlineinherotherarm.“Pleasedon’tletanyofthosecrazy
peopleinthedeliveryroomtostareatmyvagina.”

Ichucklesoftlybeforeleaningdownandkissingthetopofher

head.Noelsqueezesmyhandharderandstartstakingchanting

breathsthroughacontraction.

“Iwillguardthedeliveryroomandyourvaginawithmylife,”I

reassureherastheambulancesailsthroughintersectionsandstop
signsandgetsustothehospitalinrecordtime.

Chapter10:StupidMan

Noel

“Honey,wakeup.We’rehere.”

ThesoundofSam’svoicestirsmeawake,andIrubmyeyesandsit

uphigherinthefrontseatofthecar.

“SorryIfellasleep,”Itellhimwithayawnasheunbuckleshisseat

belt.

“Noel,youjustgavebirthlastnight.You’reallowedtosleep

wheneveryouwant,”hetellsmewithasmile.

Webothturnaroundandstareatthecarseatintheback,ourbaby

nestledinit,fastasleep.

“Ican’tevenstandhowbeautifulsheis,”Iwhisper.

“Ofcourseshe’sbeautiful,haveyouseenhermother?”

Lookingawayfromourdaughter,Ismileatmyhusbandandlean

overthecenterconsoletokisshim.Sambringsbothofhishandsupto
cupmycheeksasIpullback,andstaresintomyeyes.

“Thankyouformakingmeafather,”hetellsmesoftly,emotion

fillinghisvoice.

“ThankyoufornotwantingtodivorcemewhenIsawherfaceand

knewimmediatelywhathernameshouldbe.”Ilaughsoftly.

ChristmasHolidayStocking,Christyforshort,wasbornatexactly

12:01a.m.,makingherthefirstofficialHalloweenbabyinoursmall
town.

Iknow,Iknow.Irefusedtoeversaddlemychildwithaninsane

nameandcarryonthetraditionmyfamilystarted,butIcouldn’thelp
it.Itookonelookatherperfect,tinypinklips,perfectpinkcheeks,
perfectpudgylittlefingers,lookedoveratmyfamily—whoSamwas
unabletokeepoutofthedeliveryroom,allwithtearsfallingdown

theircheeks,includingmyfather—andknewIhadnootherchoice.

Asinsaneasmyfamilyis,they’restillmyfamily.Ilovethem

unconditionally,andI’mproudtobeapartofthem.Ineverwant
Christytofeellikesheshouldbeashamedorembarrassedaboutbeing
inthisfamily,eventhoughI’msureeveryonewillgiveherplentyof
reasonstofeelthatway.Andontopofthat,herfatherandImetat
Christmas.Bringinghimhomefromtheairportbarwasthebest
decisionIevermade.Iwouldn’thaveherifInevertookthatleap.And
eventhoughshe’sonlybeenmineforsixteenhours,Ican’timaginemy
lifewithoutherinit.

TiltingmyheadtothesideandoutofSam’shands,Ilookoverhis

shoulderandoutthedriver’ssidewindowinconfusion.

“Wait,whyareweparkedacrossthestreetfrommyparents’house?

Ithoughtweweregoinghomeandeveryonewascomingoverforan
earlydinnerbeforetrick-or-treating?”Iask.

EventhoughHalloweenismyfavoritenightoftheyear,Icouldn’t

possiblybesadaboutmissingitthisyear,whenI’dbespendingthe
eveningstaringatmydaughter.

Samdoesn’tsayawordashegetsoutofthecar.Iwatchashewalks

aroundthefrontofthevehicle,openingthebackseatdoorbehindme
andcarefullyunbucklingChristyfromhercarseat.Hegentlyliftsher
outandtucksheragainsthischestbeforeopeningmydoorand
holdingouthishandforme.

Hepullsmeoutofthefrontseatandclosesthedoorbehindme,

wrappinghisarmaroundmywaistandturningthethreeofusaway
fromthecar,whichisparkedalongthecurbacrossfrommyparents’
house.

“Wearehome,”Samtellsmewithanervoussmile.

Henodsatthehousewe’restandinginfrontof,theoneacrossthe

streetfrommyparents’house,andIstareupathim,myheartbeating
faster.

“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Iwhisper.

Leaningdown,hekissesthetopofmyhead.

“Welcomehome,baby.”

MymouthopensandcloseswordlesslyasIlookbackandforth

betweenmyhusbandandthehouseofmydreams.

“No,youdidn’t…”Imutter,wonderingifI’mstillbackatthe

hospital.MaybeIhaven’treallybeendischargedyet,andI’mstill
asleepinmyhospitalbed,havingthebestdreamever.

“Idid.And,fulldisclosure,Ihaven’tbeenworkinganyovertimethe

lastmonth.I’vebeenbusygettingthesedecorationsbuiltandsetup.”

Ithinksomeoneneedstopinchme.Orthrowabucketofcoldwater

onmyface.Myeyesquicklyfillwithtears,andtheNightmareBefore
Christmasyarddecorationsbecomeonebigblur.

“Ican’tbelieveyoudidthis.Youreallyboughtmemydreamhouse?

Youreallyspentallthistimedecoratingthefrontyardwiththings
frommyfavoritemovie?”Iask,thetearsfallingfastandharddownmy
face.

“OfcourseIdid.Assoonasthehousewentonthemarket,your

momcalledmeandtoldmeaboutitandhowyou’dalwayslovedthis
house.Iknowyou’vebeenworriedaboutbeingsofarawayfromyour
familyonceChristyarrived,andIdidn’twantyoutoworryabout
anything.Iwanttomakeallyourdreamscometrue,Noel,justlike
you’vedoneforme.”

Turningtofacehim,Iwrapmyarmsaroundhiswaist,carefulnot

tosquishoursleepingdaughterbetweenus.

“ButAlexistheonlyonewhoknewIactuallyboughtthehouseand

havebeendecoratingit.Iwantedtowaittotelleveryoneelseuntil
afterItoldyou,”hesayswithasmile,reachingupwithhisfreehandto
wipethetearsoffmycheeks.

“Howinthehelldidyouevenmanagetodoallthiswithoutanyone

seeingyou?”

Samgivesmeanotherheart-stoppingsmile.

“AreyouforgettingI’maMarine?I’vetrainedforyearsforshitlike

this.Ispentmonthscanvassingtheneighborhoodatdifferenttimesof
thedaythroughouttheweek,soIknewwhentheneighborswouldn’t
behomeandIcouldunloadallofmydecorationsandsuppliesintothe
garage.ThenI’dgetupinthemiddleofthenight,whileeveryonewas
sleeping,donmycamogear,andcreeparoundtheyardinthedark,
settingeverythingup.”

Thesmileonmyfaceimmediatelyfalls,andmyhappiness

suddenlyturnstoworry.

“Youboughtmemydreamhouseandspentallthistimedecorating

thefrontyard,”Isayagain,inasoft,nervousvoice.

Samlaughs,lookingdownatmequizzically.

“Prettysurewealreadyestablishedthat.”

Ishakemyheadathim,tryingtomakehimunderstandwithout

screaming.

“You.Decorated.It.”

Samstillisn’tgettingwhatI’mtryingtosay,andrightwhenIopen

mymouthtospellitout,there’saloudcommotionfromacrossthe
street.

“SORRY,GUYS!IHADTOSPILLTHEBEANS!”Alexshoutsfrom

myparents’frontporchasmydadshoveshimoutofthewayand
comesracingdownthestepsinourdirection.

“Oh,shit.Idecoratedit,”Sammutters,finallyunderstandingthe

gravityofthesituation.

“I’LLKILLYOU,YOULITTLESHIT!”Dadscreamsashetripsover

oneofhisclowns,quicklyrightinghimselftocontinuechargingacross
theyardtowardus.

SamhastilypassesChristyovertomeandgivesmeakissonthe

cheek.Withonelastlookatthetwoofus,heglancesoveratmydad
runningfullspeedacrossthestreetandtakesoffrunningdownthe
sidewalk.

“IFIDON’TSURVIVETHIS,TELLOURDAUGHTERILOVE

HERANDIWASONCEABRAVEMAN!”Samshoutsoverhis
shouldertome.

“DON’TYOUMEANASTUPIDMAN?”Iyellback.

“THATTOO!”Samrepliesbeforehedisappearsaroundthecorner

oftheblock.

Mydadmakesitovertomeandrunsrightbywithoutaword,his

sightssetonmyhusbandandhowmuchbodilyharmhecandoifhe
managestocatchhim.

“DAD!DON’TYOUDAREKILLMYHUSBAND!”Ishout.

Heignoresmeandcontinuesrunning,andIshakemyheadas

Alex,Scheva,mymom,andAuntBobbiejoinmeonthecurbinfront
ofmydreamhome.

MymomimmediatelytakesChristyfrommyarmsandstarts

cooingather,runningthepalmofherhandgentlyoverhersoft,red
hair.

“Thatblurwhojustranpastwasyourgrandfather,Christy,andhe’s

insane.Yes,heis.He’sacrazyman!”mymomtellsherinaliltingbaby
voice.

“Goodnews:Icalledthepumpkinfarmanddisguisedmyvoice.

They’redeliveringfourcasesofapplebutterbytomorrow,”Aunt
Bobbieannounces.

“AndyourAuntBobbielikestodokinkythingswithapplebutter,”

Schevainformsmydaughter,bendingdownandkissingoneofher
pudgylittlecheeks.

“Canwepleaseholdoffonteachingmychildwhatkinkymeans?”I

ask,watchingeveryonecrowdaroundmymomandstaredownat
Christywithsmilesontheirfaces.

“Howlongarewegoingtogivethosetwoidiotsbeforesomeone

goesafterthem?”Alexasks,staringoffintothedistancewhereSam
andmydaddisappeared.

Schevapullsherphoneoutofthepocketofherjeansandchecks

thetime.

“We’vegottwohoursbeforetrick-or-treatingstarts.Let’sgosetup

thefirepitinthedrivewayandthetableoffoodandcandy.Ifthey’re
notbackbythetimewe’refinished,I’llgolookforthem,”shetellsus.

Weallcrossthestreettomyparents’housetogetthingsready,and

Ipauseinthemiddleofthestreet,takingamomenttolookbackatthe
houseSamboughtforme.

Whowouldhavethoughtthatalmostthreeyearsago,whenIwas

unemployed,homeless,andalone,thatI’dfindthemanofmydreams,
fallinlove,andhaveababy,andthatallofmydreamswouldcome
true?

Definitelynotme,andyet,hereIam.Idon’tknowhowlifecould

getmuchbetterthanthis.

Ijoinmyfamilyandfriendsinmyparents’driveway.Alexhasset

uptablesforus,andwesetoutallthetreatbags,whichnolonger
includeillegalnarcoticsorsextoys;lightthecandlesinallthejack-o’-
lanternsspreadaroundthefrontlawnandthewhiteluminarybags
liningthedriveway;andstartbringingouttraysoffoodandcoolersof
drinkstosharewiththerestoftheneighborhood.

Samandmydadmakeitbacktothehousejustasthefirstgroupof

trick-or-treaterswalksupthedriveway,bothofthemcallingatruce
untilthefestivitiesareover.WithChristyinhercarseatontopofthe
table,sleepingthrougheverything,Ienjoyafewglassesofapple-pie
moonshinewithmyhusband,sinceI’mnotnursingChristy;Idecided
toformulafeedherforthesakeofmyownsanity.Idaydreamaboutall
oftheHalloweenswe’llgettocelebratewithmyfamily,inthehouse
acrossthestreet,withourveryowntrick-or-treatersandtablefullof
goodies.

“HappyHalloween,”ItellSamwithasmileasIwrapmyarm

aroundhiswaistandlookupathim.

“HappyHalloween,”hereplies,leaningdowntokissthetipofmy

nose.“Don’tworry,yourdadwon’tkillmeaslongasIdon’twinthe
decoratingcontest.Ialreadyspokewithabunchoftheneighborsand
toldthemnottovoteformethisyear,sincetechnicallywehaven’t
beenlivinginthehouse.Butjustbeprepared.Nextyear,it’swar.”

Ilaughandshakemyheadathim,knowingI’llneverbeableto

believemyluckthatIwasabletofindamanwhofitsinwiththis
familysoperfectly.

DON’TMISSTHESEOTHERTITLESFROMUSA

TODAYBESTSELLINGAUTHORTARASIVEC

THEHOLIDAYS

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CHOCOHOLICS

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AbouttheAuthor

TaraSivecisaUSATodaybestsellingauthorandtheBestIndie
AuthorintheIndieRomanceConventionReader’sChoiceAwardsin
2014.ShelivesinOhiowithherhusbandandtwochildren.

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TableofContents

TitlePage

CopyrightNotice

THEPUMPKINWASSTUFFED

Chapter1:EveryoneLovesClowns

Chapter2:BabiesDoNotGoinOvens

Chapter3:Apple-ButterLube

Chapter4:It’sSoTingly

Chapter5:TheBabyKnows

Chapter6:Phteven

Chapter7:SmellThesePills

Chapter7:ButtholeMeat

Chapter8:HungStocking

Chapter9:I’minMother-ForkingLabor!

Chapter10:StupidMan

AbouttheAuthor

CopyrightPage

Theseareworksoffiction.Allofthecharacters,organizations,andeventsportrayedinthese

novellasareeitherproductsoftheauthors’imaginationsorareusedfictitiously.

THEPUMPKINWASSTUFFED

.Copyright©2018bySt.Martin’sPress.

“ThePumpkinWasStuffed”copyright©2018byTaraSivec

Allrightsreserved.Forinformation,addressSt.Martin’sPress,175FifthAvenue,NewYork,

N.Y.10010.

www.stmartins.com

CoverdesignbyAnnetteDefex

Coverphotographs:man©FXQuadro/Shutterstock.com;lantern©ArinaP

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ISBN978-1-250-14825-4(ebook)

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