I planted some pumpkins and when they get big enough I'm gonna crash em through your window.

When I get mad I don't feel like King Kong or a grizzly bear or Wolverine or a werewolf or whatever other people feel like when they get mad, I feel like a pumpkin crashing through someone's living room window. This is what I have felt like ever since I saw Mookie throw a trashcan through a window in Do The Right Thing. I cried every time he did it, but I wanted to do it too. For a while I wanted to throw the trashcan, and sometimes I wanted to be inside the trashcan and have someone else throw me through a window while I was in there. But there aren't trashcans like that anymore. Can you imagine Mookie throwing one of those plastic things we have now? It'd bounce right off! So I've switched to pumpkins. Sometimes I think about the big pumpkin that God threw at the dinosaurs to kill them. Why'd he have to do that? What'd they ever do to him?

Let's be honest, I'm not mad at anyone but I'm jealous of everyone. If you get a pumpkin through your window it's because I'm fond of you and vaguely jealous of some aspect of your life so what else is there to do but a throw a pumpkin through your window.

NINE YEARS IN THE FUTURE

I've moved to a town with fewer car alarms and I've planted a pumpkin patch back behind my house. This year I rolled two of the biggest ones into the corner of my living room. One is the size of a washing machine and the other is the size of a smaller washing machine. I'm alone more than ever but less lonely than ever, although when I do get lonely it's very bad and I fantasize about gnawing a hole in one of the pumpkins and crawling in there like a worm and rolling myself into a ball and dying in the dark and slimey seeds. Or I imagine a giant pumpkin falling from the sky and crushing my house while I sleep, but the problem is I'm hardly ever asleep.

Someone from the church I've been to a few times came to my house to talk to me and pray for me and I let him. When he was done he asked if there was anything else I wanted to talk about and I asked him why God threw that pumpkin at the dinosaurs. He was startled and said that he didn't think it mattered very much whether evolution was real or not and I said I didn't think so either but that that wasn't what I was talking about. He tried to change the subject by complimenting my pumpkins in the corner, but I could tell they were making him uncomfortable. I think he thought they were political. I tried to think how the pumpkins could be political, but I've stopped paying attention to what's going on. I know myself and there's a few other people I try to know and that's it.

Last week I went and stayed with a friend who still lives in the town I used to live in. His kids thought I was so funny. We were all very pleased with how funny they thought I was. After they went to bed I sat on a couch and he sat on a different couch and we both drank four beers. We said what bars we used to go to and what porches we used to sit on and who we used to be friends with. We said what we used to say and we said things about technology. I said some owls lived in the woods near my house. It wasn't what I wanted to say and I felt like a baby or someone's grampa although I'm acutely aware that I am neither of those things. After a while my friend brought me a pillow and a blanket and asked if I needed anything. I said I didn't and he went upstairs to his wife and I spread out on the couch and imagined my body turning into a pile of pumpkin seeds.

NINETY-NINE YEARS IN THE FUTURE

The earth has been destroyed. There is one planet with a lot of people on it, and another planet with fewer people. The residents of the two planets are confused about the situation and have very limited contact with each other. They disagree strongly about what the two planets should be called. I live on an enormous pumpkin whose lemniscate orbital path causes it to act as a moon for both planets.