The Pumpkin King

The annual BCPD pumpkin carving contest was well under way. Police officers in pairs strived for the first prize, trying to carve the best, most imaginative patterns.

The pumpkin contest had started out as a joke—a Pumpkin Hall of Fame to immortalize the first, second, and third place winners along with their creations—but the idea had grown roots and become a staple. Everyone was eagerly looking forward to it. It had grown from a small affair into a big event over the years, with coverage from the local newspaper and a live audience.

The contestants signed up in pairs, picked their own pumpkin, and had three hours at their disposal to carve it. The three best carved pumpkins would receive special Halloween awards and an extra little something from the department: a financial bonus, extra leave, new laptops. The prizes changed every year, and first place always got the better one. This year, the first place award was two weeks in Palm Springs, all expenses paid for.

The Starsky and Hutch duo had won first place for the last three consecutive years with elaborate carvings that were so intricate and masterful that they had given the preserved pumpkins a place of pride and put them on display in the Pumpkin Hall in special glass cases. Anyone wanting inspiration or just a glimpse at a true work of art could stroll into the hall and let their jaws drop on the floor looking at Van Gogh’s Starry Night or the flaming whip wielding Balrog of Moria, glowing with strategically positioned small LED flashlights creating the effect of shadow and light and flameless candles providing a superior glow, showcasing the layered pumpkin carvings.

This year, though, things were different, throwing Hutch for a loop. For the first time since the beginning, the contestants could not choose their own partners. This year there had been a lottery. They wrote the names of the participants down, placed them in a large bowl, and drew them at random. Hutch had gotten Simmons. Starsky Babcock.

Starsky didn’t seem fazed at all. Hutch felt shaken. Starsky was his tether, keeping him right. They were both competitive, but Hutch could reach uncontrolled levels of excitement that Starsky would always balance out. He could tame Hutch’s wild behavior, ground him, and keep him—and everyone else—sane and as far away from Cabrillo Asylum as possible.

Now, though, Hutch was on his own, adrift at sea. Two hours into the contest, Hutch, being Hutch, was at his most competitive. He was in a frenzy, carving furiously and mumbling under his breath. He was drenched in sweat, his hair sticking up like a hedgehog, with pumpkin seeds stuck on it and pumpkin innards all over the front of his shirt.

Simmons had accepted his role as the long-suffering carver’s partner and had embraced the madness. At the very least, he deserved a medal for doing his absolute best. Dealing with a Hutch in a worked up state was no picnic.

Hutch looked at the clock. Time was ticking, indifferent to his plight. He wanted first place like the year before and the year before that. And the year before that. He had to keep up the winning streak. No matter how much he loved Starsky, he was obsessed with getting first place.

He felt guilt rising in his chest now and then, but he smothered it as best he could. Starsky would understand; he wouldn’t mind Hutch doing his best to come first. He would be happy about it and cheer for him. He had said as much, hadn’t he? The previous night, he had wished Hutch the best of luck and asked him to try not to drive poor Simmons insane. Starsky knew his competitive nature and had accepted it. He had accepted him with all his flaws, and Hutch always tried to do better for him. He had become better. Starsky made him a better man. But this was Halloween, the Annual Pumpkin Contest, and the Hall of Fame. He had to win!

Starsky could forgive him for crossing the line a bit. It wasn’t his fault they separated them this year. He didn’t ask for that to happen. He didn’t want it. He absolutely loathed it. But the Powers that Be had other plans and conspired to keep them apart, and now it was every man for himself. Besides, if Hutch won, Starsky would reap the benefits of first place, too. It’d be the two of them living it up for two whole weeks in the resorts, spas, and golf courses of Palm Springs. He would do this for Starsky!

He attacked his pumpkin with renewed fervor. The shock of not being on a team with his partner this year had played havoc with his inspiration, and he had lost precious time at the beginning trying to decide what kind of tool was best for what he wanted to do, changing his mind multiple times and coming up with different variations on his theme. Starsky was an artist himself, with a huge imagination and a well of creativity, and Hutch was sure Starsky’s finished result would give him a run for his money. So he had to make absolutely sure his own pumpkin would be perfect.

For a while, he kept a steady rhythm. He tried to focus on his own work, but as time relentlessly marched on, he felt compelled, against his better judgment, to check on his partner’s progress.

He chanced a glance at Starsky’s work station. It looked like he was putting the finishing touches on his creation, wearing a big, dopey smile on his face while Babcock was sniggering. They both looked happy and proud of what they had accomplished. Hutch narrowed his eyes. Finished already? And was that smugness he detected?

Babcock leaned in, said something to Starsky, and they both burst out laughing. Hutch felt something close to sadness. If they had been carving partners, they’d be laughing together now. Hutch wouldn’t feel guilty for wanting to win or have to rationalize it to himself. He’d be more relaxed and able to enjoy the whole process, having fun instead of agonizing. He was a madman surrounded by laughter and joy that didn’t touch him. Hutch frowned. He should lighten up.

Huggy’s disembodied voice came on, amplified through a mic. “You have fifteen more minutes!”

Hutch reacted like an electric current had gone through him. Fuck lightening up! The three hours were almost up!

He couldn’t allow the first place to slip through his fingers. He had already lost valuable time being distracted and brooding instead of polishing his masterpiece. He doubled his efforts, visualizing the Pumpkin Hall of Fame to keep him focused until the finish line.

It had begun life as a naked room with a handwritten label on the door and had turned into a lovely sort of museum over the years, adorned with Halloween decorations—some bought, some created by the police officers themselves and their children; photos of the winners and their pumpkins; pieces of Halloween history; the preserved winning pumpkins; bits of lore and tales. There was always some Halloween related addition, and Hutch saw in his mind’s eye his pumpkin taking the place of pride.

He was so lost in that sort of lucid dream, with the tip of his tongue protruding from his mouth, that he didn’t hear the horn signaling the end of the contest. Simmons had to grab his wrist and pull him back. Sweat was pouring from his face, plastering his hair on his forehead, and drenching his shirt.

“It’s over, buddy. You can relax now.” Simmons said as he held out a towel and a bottle of water.

Hutch looked dazed for a few seconds. It was over. He was free. He shook himself, wiped the sweat from his flushed face, and drank almost the whole bottle of water. He looked at Simmons, feeling suddenly like an idiot.

“Thank you,” he said with an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry for acting…” He trailed off while sweeping his arm to gesture toward their work bench.

“Demented?”

Hutch winced. “That’s one word for it.”

Simmons gave him a brilliant grin. “It’s fine. It was all worth it.”

Hutch’s brain took a few seconds to catch up, and by the time he thought to ask what Simms meant by that, the judges were in front of him. Hutch’s anxiety came back for an encore, and after the judges moved on, he had forgotten all about it.

They had to stay in place until the results were in, so Hutch turned and looked at Starsky. He was busy whispering to Babcock, and were they giggling? What in the name of Samhain had they gotten up to? The position of the workstations was such that the other contestants couldn’t see the carved pumpkins until the final revelation, and Hutch had a sudden itch to see what they’d done. He tried to catch Starsky’s eye, and after a few failed attempts, he was under the distinct impression that Starsky was avoiding looking at him very much on purpose. So was Babcock.

Hutch looked around him. All the faces that looked back wore blinding smiles and knowing expressions. He felt like he was in the middle of a vast conspiracy. Have I finally lost it? Will this contest be my undoing? Am I carving out my sanity and replacing it with paranoia? Hutch thought and looked at Dobey, attempting to center himself. And Dobey… winked at him!

Before Hutch could process all the crazy input, Huggy took the microphone to announce the final results in his own, inimitable style. Hutch went ramrod straight, buzzing with anticipation.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Ghouls, the time you have all been waiting for is here! Our judges have spoken, and the results are in! We have our three winners and their fang-tastic Jack-o-Lanterns. In third place, Perry Andrews and Caz Branston with their spook-tacular evil tree!

In second place, our bewitching Minnie Kaplan and Penelope Torres with their haunting Headless Horseman!”

As Huggy shouted the names of the winners and they revealed their creations, Hutch clapped and cheered along with everyone else; but now that the time had come for the first place announcement, he stopped and looked at Starsky. He seemed so happy; it was like he was glowing from within. Hutch felt his chest constrict and berated himself for his stupid competitive nature and his idiotic need to win at everything. What he truly needed was to see Starsky happy and smiling like that all the time. He wanted the star in his sky to win. They’d be together anyway, and that was the only thing that mattered. The precious time they had together. The moments they shared. Everything else was irrelevant. The most important place was the one he held in Starsky’s life and heart, and he knew beyond any doubt that he was number one.

“And finally,” Huggy’s voice boomed, “the moment we’ve all been working towards! Our very own King of Halloween, pumpkin-spicing things up and making this day hex-tra special! Please join me in holding our breaths while he puts his spell on what is his!”

Total silence descended like a veil. All eyes turned to a beaming Starsky, who slowly and with formality turned the big pumpkin around. Hutch watched as one by one he saw letters appear and registered the carved words, forming a question.

A question he had always dreamed of hearing. Or asking. Will you marry me?  Framed by a ghost heart on one side and a heart with bat wings on the other. In the split second it took Hutch’s brain to come back online, cheers, whistles, clapping, and whooping erupted all around him.

Starsky picked the pumpkin up and, with great ceremony, followed by their friends and colleagues, carried it to Hutch’s workbench. He held it in front of Hutch and motioned for him to take the top off. Nestled inside was a beautiful white gold ring studded with small diamonds. Hutch was speechless.

“Will you be my Pumpkin King?” Starsky asked with a smile that could have eclipsed the sun.

Hutch nodded. His ability to speak had vanished for the moment. He covered Starsky’s hands with his own and leaned in for a kiss. His voice would return, but he didn’t need a voice to know he had just won the most priceless prize in the entire world: the throne in the Hall of Starsky’s heart.

Chapter End Notes:

Hutch wasn’t paranoid, there was indeed a conspiracy and the whole department was in on it. The trip was the department’s engagement present to our boys. Starsky chose Palm Springs with Hutch and his love for the outdoors in mind. He planned to take Hutch to the aerial tram on Mount San Jacinto to enjoy the breathtaking views over the desert floor, to the palm oases and the beautiful desert gardens. Not to mention planning several romantic dates to enjoy the famous date shakes. Ah, the things we do for the ones we love!

Several pumpkins were carved during the making of this story but since they were turned into works of art they really enjoyed it, little exhibitionists! Especially Starsky’s pumpkin whose purpose was sacred and of the utmost importance.

The boys kept the pumpkin for the rest of their lives. And every time they had a serious fight – which was rare – one of them took the pumpkin out and gave it to the other as a reminder of how deep their love run and how there was nothing they couldn’t face together.

If you’re wondering what Hutch carved in his pumpkin, I’m guessing – knowing Hutch – it was probably something light and simple. Like Pablo Picasso’s Guernica!

If you’d like to talk about all things Halloween, you can find me on messenger and dragons_lair@gmx.com
Constructive criticism always welcome and if you want to throw something, throw chocolate!

Thank you for reading!