(so, last time I was all "I promise something better soon" but since the Master's application has claimed its stake on my life and soul until 1 oct, I haven't really written anything great. So here's this little prose piece, it's sort of... lame? I dunno, I was trying to convey something, but I don't think I did a very good job. I may try again some other time)
Pumpkin Guts
It was raining outside when I drove to the store. I picked out the perfect pumpkin -- small, it would definitely be sweet. I drove home and the music on the radio made me feel weird -- I couldn't tell if I was happy or sad. I plopped the pumpkin on the counter and cut a hexagon around the stem. Normally I would cut it in half, but this time I felt it would be more gratifying to leave the pumpkin whole. I glanced at the melon baller on the counter, but instead plunged my hand inside the pumpkin and began pulling out handfuls of pumpkin guts. The goopy, stringy texture it left on my hand gave me creepy chills. Handful upon handful, pretty soon I started to laugh. I pulled out more of the stringy stuff and began to cry as well. And I stood there, crying and laughing and pulling out handfuls of orange goop until I was out of tears and laughter and the pumpkin guts were all out. I was empty and so was my pumpkin. I went outside to sit in the rain -- the pie could wait.
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