PUMPKINSEED (Cabo 12/2018)

Encountering the Monster, Part Two of the Sequel

A lasso rests around my neck. I have survived this scenario before, but that was before. I remain motionless. I am taunted towards action but I know all action will result in death.

I am puzzled that I don't think of my wife and child or see my life flashing before my eyes. I think about a Cabo fourth floor training center vantage point where I see a wall separating a sandy pasture from a walkway to the Pacific beach. On the far side of the wall a colt or perhaps a filly is prancing, is turning while jumping, is joyous. Five mature horses are tied to individual wood poles but their calm eyes follow the offspring of one or more of the set. The mature horses are free because the colt is untethered in play. The unhitched colt is lovingly held captive because no world exists outside their watchful gazes.

On the near side of the wall is a boy riding a Big Wheel. The brick wall is at least eight feet high and the boy and the colt don't exist for each other. The walkway echoes the plastic on pavement roar of the toy as a young mother tries to keep pace. She is distressed because her son, her joy, her gift to the world is anger incarnate. Steering with one hand, the boy points accusingly with the other arm, shouting, "You are an Asshole. And You are an Asshole.  And You're an Asshole."  With each new verbal volley the boy swings his pointed finger to assault a new victim. Although I am perched four flights above, I am the seventh so condemned by this pint-sized judge.

What strikes me is the absolute juxtaposition of joy and unease side by side. I think of millions of years ago when cells came together to form creatures why some thought it best to duplicate horses and others thought it better than best to be human. Now there are so many more humans than horses, a choice certainly not consciously made. This boy, this colt generate answers to questions I have never sought about tending the garden and which are flowers and which are weeds.

Again, I chastise myself for not making my family the center of my thoughts in this time of crisis.

Then I realize what a blessing this random memory, this chance vision is to my survival. Bravery by distraction has forced The Monster to make the first move. It is not until The Monster intends to speak that I remember the lasso resting around my neck. Of course The Monster cannot speak (or, at least, I cannot comprehend his high whistle and shrill blasts). My arms are again bound at the wrists behind my back. Using his lasso (perhaps his arm?) The Monster directs my vision towards a yellow legal pad (Could it be that same yellow legal pad?). It says, "You plunked me between the eyes with a PUMPKINSEED!"

My feet are still but my mind is racing. I have five thoughts at the same time.
1. THE MONSTER! NO!
2. Where are my wife and Cable?
3. Why did I spit that PUMPKINSEED?
4. I should have left.
5. I must survive. Others are counting on me.

"Yes, that was me," I confess. "I am sorry. That was many years ago. Please, please, forgive me!"
The Monster rips away the front sheet of the legal pad displaying a new message: "You were so brave then. You did not fear death."

I fall limp and The Monster is almost propping me up. I start to panic.
1. NOOOOOOOO!!!!!
2. I must protect my wife and Cable!
3. Why did I spit that PUMPKINSEED?
4. Perhaps there is still a way.
5. I must survive. Others are counting on me.

"Yes, I was brave but foolish. Yes, I did not fear death. But now I live for others. Please spare me!" The Monster is quiet and I squirm in the wretched agony of worry and resignation.
1. NOOOOOOOO!!!!!! THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!
2. BECKY! CABLE!
3. WHY DID I SPIT THAT PUMKINSEED?
4. . . . MUST BE A WAY!
5. MUST . . . OTHERS . . . COUNTING . . .

"I AM SO SORRY ABOUT SPITTING THAT PUMPKINSEED! I TAKE IT BACK! I TAKE BACK THAT PUMPKINSEED!" I say all this and much much more. I blurt and spew and say whatever comes to mind in hopes that something will stick, that something will soften the heart of The Monster if He has a heart. I finish with, "PLEASE DON'T KILL ME. MY FAMILY NEEDS ME."

I am on my knees now. I am sobbing. There is truly a puddle partly from tears and perspiration below me.

The Monster rips another sheet off the legal pad revealing the following: "What Kind Of Monster Do You Think I Am? It was just a PUMPKINSEED."

I am in a daze.  As I reread The Monster's scrawl, I am slow to realize that the lasso is gone, that The Monster is gone, and that my wonderful world has returned unharmed.