Smashing pumpkins

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When I got home that night, I noticed the smiling jack-o-lantern in my front yard was crushed. A wide grin emerged upon my face.

There I stood, almost giddy, staring at the broken corpse of a pumpkin which I had spent hours methodically cutting and sawing. My smile was that of victory and pride, not in the crafting of the jack-o-lantern, but of its horrible demise.

You see, it suffered its fate by the hands of its creator. Tossed through the air and dashed violently to the ground in a fit of laughter and delight as it came to its end.

It was there that I, a grown man, lived out a long-awaited dream; and it was there that I learned a very important life lesson: cleaning up a smashed pumpkin is a real pain in the ass.