Pumpkin Carving
“Let’s do pumpkin carving!” said Love excitedly.
“Very well—pumpkin carving it is!” said Thor. He grinned, then turned to Loki and Sylvie. “What say you, brother? Sylvie? Can we prevail upon you to join us?”
Loki grimaced. He was all for fun Midgardian activities, but somehow the idea of slicing up a pumpkin into some sort of sculpture seemed rather tedious, not to mention messy. Quite frankly, Loki didn’t see the point of it. It seemed like a waste of good produce.
But Love was gazing up at them imploringly, with those sweet, innocent eyes.
(Yes, Loki was perfectly aware that those eyes could also shoot deadly lasers, but in the moment, they were very sweet and innocent.)
“C’mon, Uncle Loki! Auntie Sylvie! Pleeeease?” she pleaded. “It’ll be so much fun!”
Loki glanced at Sylvie. She glanced back at him and shrugged.
“All right, sure. Why not?” said Loki.
“Excellent!” said Thor. “Then let us hasten to the pumpkin patch!”
He took Love’s hand and the four of them made their way through the town square toward the pumpkin patch.
But before they got very far, King Valkyrie caught up with them. She nodded to each of them in turn.
“Hey, kid. Sylvie. Lackey.”
“Loki,” Loki corrected petulantly.
Val flashed her eyebrows, an amused smile on her face. Then, she turned to Thor. “Might I have a word?”
Thor nodded. He released Love’s hand and the two of them made their way over to a stand peddling apple cider.
Sylvie watched them warily. “What do you suppose that’s about?”
“I’m not sure,” said Loki. “Perhaps they’re discussing that second-rate Trickster who’s been plaguing the town.”
Sylvie smirked. “Second-rate, huh?”
“Yes, second-rate,” said Loki. “Clearly, they’re an amateur, especially compared to my exploits.” He grinned. “Not to brag, but I was quite a legendary trickster in my day, you know.”
“You were?” asked Love in awe.
“Indeed, I was,” said Loki. “In fact, some people even used to call me the Trickster Supreme.”
“Ah,” said Sylvie. “And I’m guessing by ‘some people,’ you actually mean ‘some person,’ and by some person, you mean you?”
“No!” said Loki, offended. “I mean, I did call myself that, but I wasn’t the only one.” He paused, then said, in a quiet voice, “Mother also used the term. Once.”
“Mmm-hmm,” said Sylvie, amused. “Well, it sounds like someone’s making a bid for your title.”
Loki scoffed. “Impossible. You can’t dethrone a legend!”
“I suppose we’ll find out by the end of the night if that’s true,” said Sylvie.
After a few moments, Thor returned, looking rather dejected.
“Unfortunately, I’m afraid I cannot join you all for pumpkin carving,” said Thor. “Val has just informed me that the Trickster has apparently stolen a vat of caramel from the caramel apple stand and used it to replace all the soap in the bathroom dispensers. It’s left everyone with sticky palms!” Thor shook his fist. “The ignominious cad!”
Loki raised his eyebrows. “Goodness. That’s…quite a prank,” he said, impressed despite himself.
“Aye, brother. Whoever this Trickster is, they are clearly nefariously sharp of mind,” said Thor. “At any rate, Val wishes for us to investigate to see if we can find any clues.” He glanced at Love, then at Loki and Sylvie. “I trust you and Sylvie can handle taking Love to the pumpkin carving station?”
Loki blinked. “You want us to take her…alone?”
“Certainly!” said Thor. “Love is safe in your hands.”
“But she’s a child. Is she even allowed to use a knife?”
“Well, as you pointed out, she uses Stormbreaker all the time,” said Thor with a shrug.
“Yes, but that’s in battle. I would think carving pumpkins would require a bit more finesse.”
“Well, as dagger and sword experts, that makes you and Sylvie the perfect tutors!” He glanced behind him at Val, who was making a “move it along” gesture. “I must go. Have fun, you three!”
“But—!”
“You’ve got it all under control, brother! I believe in you!” Thor tapped his chest twice, then pointed to Loki as he rushed to follow Val.
Loki and Sylvie watched him go, his rhino head bobbing as he walked. They shared a look.
“Well. Looks like we’re babysitters,” said Loki. “Can’t see how this won’t end in disaster.”
“It’ll be fine. All we have to do is keep her alive for an hour or so, and make sure she doesn’t do something completely off the rails, like amputate her thumb or cause extensive property damage,” said Sylvie with a shrug. “I mean, Thor does it. How hard could it possibly be?”
***
Now Thor-less, Loki, Sylvie, and Love made their way over to the tiny pumpkin patch, where the pumpkin carving station had been set up. There, they joined a small crowd, largely made up of children. At the head of the crowd stood Korg and Miek. Korg was wearing a tight black top, with a thick silver chain around his neck and a fanny pack at his waist. Miek was decked out in a belted black leather suit and a crazy, floofy black wig.
“Hello, everyone,” said Korg brightly. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Korg, and this is my buddy Miek. As you can see, for my Halloween costume, I have chosen to dress up as Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson, due to my rock-like appearance. Miek is dressed as someone called ‘Edward Scissorhands’ from the Midgardian movie of the same name, owing to the fact that she has knives for hands.”
Miek waved to the crowd with her knife hands.
“Anyway,” Korg continued. “Now that you are in on the joke, I suppose we should get things started. Welcome to the pumpkin carving station, where in Midgardian tradition, you can create your own gourd-based masterpieces. The basic premise of pumpkin carving is easy enough to understand. You pick a pumpkin and carve it up with a knife so that it resembles something else. Then, you light a candle, stick it inside, and voila! One cheerful, glowing jack-o-lantern.”
He pulled from behind him a tiny pumpkin, with two triangle eyes, a triangle nose, and a jagged mouth. It was lit up from the inside, so that the face shone with a soft, flickering yellow light. Some of the kids said, “Oooooh!”
“Now, the first step is to choose a pumpkin from our lovely New Asgard pumpkin patch, so why don’t we all go ahead and do just that,” said Korg.
Loki, Sylvie, and Love joined the other members of the crowd as they wandered into the pumpkin patch, where several dozen pumpkins of varying sizes were sprouting from the ground. Loki was just about to select a pumpkin at random when he heard Korg speak again.
“And remember, if you think your pumpkin worthy, you can feel free to enter it in the pumpkin carving contest.”
Loki’s ears perked up. He turned to Korg. “A contest, you say?”
“That’s right, mate,” Korg confirmed. “I’ll serve as the judge. Winner will be crowned King or Queen of the Pumpkin Patch and will be allowed to sit on the Autumn Throne.”
He gestured toward a pile of haystacks in the center of the pumpkin patch that roughly resembled a throne—or, at least, a lumpy chair. Atop it sat a crown made from ears of flint corn that were bound together.
“I see,” said Loki, trying not to appear too interested. “And, ah, this contest…is it only open to the children?”
Korg shrugged. “I mean, we designed it for the children, but I suppose anyone can enter.”
Loki grinned widely. “Excellent. Most excellent.”
Sylvie looked at him dubiously. “Loki. You’re not seriously thinking of entering, are you?”
“But, Sylvie! It’s a throne!”
“Oh, Norns, Loki, it’s just a pile of hay. It’s probably teeming with bugs.”
“But…King of the Pumpkin Patch!” he said, looking longingly at the Autumn Throne.
Sylvie sighed. “OK, fine. You can enter. But don't throw a tantrum and burn the pumpkin patch to the ground if you don’t win.”
“Of course not,” said Loki confidently. “That won’t be a problem.”
Sylvie side-eyed him. “It won’t be a problem because you’re a civilized person and you’d never think of burning the pumpkin patch to the ground? Or, it won’t be a problem because you think you’re going to win?”
Loki shrugged. “A bit of both.”
Sylvie rolled her eyes.
Once everyone had returned to the carving stations with their chosen pumpkins, Korg again spoke up.
“Right, now that you have your pumpkins, we will perform a quick tutorial on how to carve them. I have been informed that the best way to carve a pumpkin is to start by cutting a hole in the bottom and scraping out all the pumpkin guts and seeds,” said Korg. “Then, you simply choose a design and get carving, as Miek will now demonstrate.”
He gestured toward Miek. She clicked her mandibles and held up her knife-hands. Then, she began moving them over the pumpkin rapidly; pieces of orange pumpkin went flying everywhere in a flurry of slices, scrapes, slashes, and cuts.
Ten seconds later, Miek turned the pumpkin around to reveal a perfectly carved likeness of Munch’s The Scream.
Loki’s jaw dropped. How…?
The crowd burst into applause. Miek clicked a few times, then bowed.
“Looks like you’ve got some competition for that throne,” Sylvie whispered to him as she clapped.
Loki scoffed. “Please. What a poor imitation of the original,” he said disdainfully.
Korg, however, didn’t seem to agree.
“Well done, Miek, well done!” said Korg, nodding in approval. “Very appropriate for Halloween.” He turned back to the crowd. “All right, everyone. Now that we’ve got the basics down, it’s time for you to create your own masterpieces. Think about your designs while I hand out the knives.”
As the rest of the crowd discussed their designs, Loki went to intercept Korg, hoping to pick out the best and sharpest knife. After all, an artist is only as good as the tools he’s given to use.
But when he got there, he found a very confused Korg searching through a large wooden chest.
“Hmm…that’s odd,” said Korg.
“What is it?” asked Loki.
Korg scratched his head, looking confused.
“Well, we had a whole bunch of high-quality Uru carving knives for everyone to work with,” he said. “But it looks like someone’s swapped them all out for these.”
He held up a small, serrated tool with a cheap plastic orange handle. Loki stared at it, appalled.
“But…but that’s not a knife! That’s a cheap, dull piece of metal. How can anyone be expected to craft a masterpiece worthy of the throne of Autumn with that?”
“Dunno, but it’s all we have to work with,” said Korg. He shrugged. “Looks like the Trickster has struck again.” He handed Loki three of the cheap knives. “Better get started on your pumpkin.
Loki returned to their table in a huff. If this was indeed the work of the Trickster, then this person was clearly setting out to make Loki’s life miserable.
“Bad news. The Trickster has stolen all the good knives, leaving us with these flimsy monstrosities,” he said to Sylvie as he handed her and Love their carving devices. “Perhaps they are in our midst right now. In fact, I’d wager money that the Trickster is that upstart Miek.”
Sylvie raised an eyebrow. “Miek? Insectozoid Miek? You think she’s the Trickster?”
“Well, why not?” asked Loki. “It makes sense! Perhaps she stole all the good knives so that she would be the only one with a proper carving knife, thereby eliminating any real competition.”
“No offense, Loki, but I don’t think Miek needs to eliminate the competition,” said Sylvie. “Her work speaks for itself.”
She gestured toward Miek, who had already carved three additional pumpkins depicting da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, Van Gogh’s Starry Night, and the Living Tribunal.
Loki scoffed. “Please. That only means she has more to lose when someone more talented comes along to claim her title.”
Sylvie rolled her eyes. “Well, instead of constantly complaining about your knife, why don’t you just use your daggers?”
“Absolutely not. Daggers are an elegant weapon, designed to carve out the hearts of one’s enemies. They are not meant for cutting glorified squash.”
Sylvie shrugged. “Suit yourself. But you’re never going to beat Miek working with that.”
Loki sighed. He glanced down at the pitiful orange knife.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” he muttered.
Then, he twirled his hand and, in a flash of green light, his dagger appeared. He winced as he pressed the tip of the dagger to his pumpkin; then, he swallowed his pride and got to work, cutting a hole in the bottom of the pumpkin and scooping out its innards.
They worked in silence for a while, each of them focused on their pumpkins. Loki stared at his pumpkin for several minutes, trying to imagine what to fashion out of it. To win the Autumn Throne, he would clearly need to create something original. Something that would completely wow the crowd with its greatness, so that they’d forget all about Miek’s off-brand works of art.
Something dramatic. Something daring. Something majestic. Something that oozed independence, authority, and style.
Something devilishly handsome.
Loki grinned; suddenly, he knew exactly what design he was going to use to earn the title King of the Pumpkin Patch.
He got to work, using his dagger to fashion a rough version of what he wanted. To his great surprise, Loki found that the dagger was making quick work of pumpkin carving. Within a few minutes, he had something resembling a face.
Love and Sylvie, meanwhile, were having considerably more trouble carving their pumpkins.
“Urrgh, this dumb knife won’t cut!” complained Love, stabbing her pumpkin several times with it, denting it up. Frustrated, she pulled a hairpin out from under the hood of her giraffe costume and tapped it against her leg; with a flash of light, it transformed into Stormbreaker. She lifted the magnificent battle axe in the air, ready to hit the pumpkin with it, when Sylvie held out a hand to stop her.
“Whoa, there, Love! You can’t use an axe to carve a pumpkin!” Sylvie admonished. She then reached into her unicorn onesie and pulled out her sword. “Here. Use a machete.”
Love’s eyes lit up. She took the machete reverently, then proceeded to stab her pumpkin with it.
As they approached the end of their allotted time for pumpkin carving, Loki was rather pleased with his design, if he did say so himself. He set about adding finer details to it, convinced that he would be crowned victor.
Love and Sylvie, however, were less pleased with their creations.
“This is stupid,” muttered Love, staring sullenly at the indistinguishable design on her pumpkin–which seemed to have four eyes, a straight-lined mouth, pock marks, and several gashes in various places.
“I agree,” muttered Sylvie, glaring down at her own monstrosity–which, to Loki, looked so awful he was genuinely afraid that a demon would use it as an unholy vessel to plague Midgard at any moment.
“Well, I think it’s great fun!” said Loki as he put the finishing touches on his pumpkin. Finally, he stepped back to survey his work. “There!” He turned to Sylvie. “What do you think? I call it The Once and Future Trickster.”
He gestured toward his work—which was, of course, a highly detailed sculpture of his own head. He’d even co-opted some bendy summer squashes from the produce tent to fashion two rather remarkable horns.
Sylvie leaned forward to examine his creation. “Mmm. Not bad.”
Loki stared at her in disbelief. “Not bad? This is a work of art! I mean, just look at those cheekbones!”
“I dunno,” said Sylvie discerningly. “It looks like you, for sure. But it doesn’t quite capture your inherent humility and modesty.”
Loki gave her a withering look. She smiled cheekily back at him.
“Make fun all you want, darling, but I’ll have the final laugh when I’m sitting atop the Autumn Throne.”
Once everyone had finished their pumpkins, they lined them all up on a table in front of the pumpkin patch for judging.
As he surveyed the competition, Loki was feeling more and more confident about his pumpkin’s chances of winning. With the exception of Miek’s creations, most of them were amateurish or straight-up ugly. And although Miek had the edge in artistic recreation, Loki felt confident that his pumpkin would stand out. After all, anyone can copy a famous work of art. Loki’s carving, however, was truly one of a kind.
Soon, Love and Sylvie approached the table. Love was carrying her small, four-eyed, no-nosed, pockmarked pumpkin, which she had named “Larry”; Sylvie, meanwhile, was carrying a plate of chopped-up pumpkin pieces. She plopped the mess onto the table in a sticky heap.
Loki eyed the destroyed pumpkin with a raised eyebrow. “What in the world did you do to your pumpkin?”
“Nice, right?” Sylvie wiped the blade of her sword with the tablecloth and grinned. “I got annoyed with the whole thing, so I just macheted it. Now, it’s an abstract piece of modern art I’ve titled An Ode to Frustration.”
“Charming, as always, darling.”
Once all the pumpkins had been submitted, it was time to light the candles inside them and let them stand for judgment. However, Korg had some disappointing news for everyone.
“It appears that the Trickster has stolen the box of matches. So, unless we can find another source of fire, we are unable to light the candles inside the pumpkins at this time.”
Everyone groaned in disappointment. Everyone, that is, except Love.
“Ooh! I can help!” she said, her eyes lighting up.
Then, her eyes really lit up…
“No, wait…!” said Loki in alarm.
But it was too late.
Love aimed her laser eyes at the line of pumpkins and fired.
Pew! Pew! Pew!
Boom! Splat!
The pumpkins exploded as Love’s lasers struck them, sending large pumpkin pieces flying everywhere and splattering Loki, Sylvie, and the rest of the contestants with smashed pumpkin. Her lasers came out of her eyes in bursts, destroying the pumpkins with meticulous ease.
Pew! Pew! Pew!
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Splat! Splat! Splat!
“Love, stop!” cried Sylvie.
“What?” said Love, turning to look at her. Her laser eyes followed her gaze. Sylvie ducked just in time; the lasers missed her and hit the pumpkin patch behind her, exploding all the remaining pumpkins. Gooey pumpkin innards and white pumpkin seeds splattered across the crowd.
Finally, Love stopped shooting her lasers. She blinked, then looked up at Loki and Sylvie.
“Oops,” she said, abashed.
Loki surveyed the damage. Pumpkins lay in pieces everywhere. Everything—and everyone—was covered in gooey orange pumpkin innards. Black blast marks charred the wooden tables; sections of the pumpkin patch were on fire.
And, what’s worse, all that remained of his own exquisite pumpkin was a bit of nose and half of a mischievous grin.
Loki sighed. It looked as though his chances of earning the Autumn Throne were all but gone.
(Yes, Love had also destroyed all the pumpkins. But the throne…!)
Silence descended upon the crowd as everyone stared at the destroyed pumpkins and the decimated pumpkin patch. It stretched out for several moments.
Then, the crowd burst into applause.
“What a show!” cried one person in the crowd.
“Bravo! Bravo!” cried another.
“I had no idea Midgardian customs were so explosive!” said someone else. “I love it!”
“Huh,” said Sylvie, staring at the crowd in bewilderment. “Asgardians really do love their violence, don’t they?”
Loki grinned. “It’s one of our trademark qualities, along with gilding everything in gold, pointy things, and getting very full.”
“Sounds wonderful. Sign me up!” said a booming voice from behind them. They all turned to see Thor walking toward them.
“Uncle Thor!” Love exclaimed, rushing over to him.
“Come here, you little gremlin!” he said, scooping her up into a hug. She squealed in delight as he picked her up and spun her around; then, he set her down and straightened. “How was pumpkin carving? Did you have a good—” Then, he caught sight of the damage. “Oh, my. What in Midgard happened here? Was there an attack? Has the Trickster struck again?”
“No,” said Loki. He paused. “Well, the Trickster has struck again and stolen our knives and matches, but the decimated pumpkins are just the result of some typical New Asgard tomfoolery.”
“Ah. I see,” said Thor. “Well, as it was the first year doing this, I suppose none of us expected everything to go smoothly, anyway.”
“Honestly, I think people preferred the exploding pumpkins at the end,” said Sylvie. She put an arm around Love; the two shared a smile. “Maybe that will become our tradition.”
Thor laughed. “Exploding pumpkins! I love it!”
“How did the investigation go?” asked Loki. “Did you find the Trickster?”
“Ah, no,” said Thor regretfully. “It appears the trail has gone cold. The cursed Trickster has eluded us once again!”
“Pity,” said Loki. “Well, hopefully we’ll be able to catch them at one of the other Halloween activities.
“Indeed, brother,” said Thor. “Anyway, I was feeling a bit left out since I couldn’t join you all, so while I was out investigating with Val, I managed to carve this.”
He produced a small, roughly carved jack-o-lantern, with a jagged mouth, mismatched eyes, and a triangular nose.
Loki stared at the pumpkin. “Ah. That’s, er…that’s certainly something.”
Just then, Korg walked over to them.
“Oh. Hey, Thor,” he greeted. Then, he caught sight of Thor’s pumpkin and gasped. “Wow! What a unique and exquisitely carved pumpkin!” he said. He took it from Thor and examined it. “I especially love the work you’ve done on the nose.”
“Oh, ‘twas nothing,” said Thor, waving a hand modestly. “Just a little something I worked up. I barely put any effort into it at all.”
Korg held the pumpkin up higher, rotating it, as if to get a better view. Then, he handed it back to Thor.
“Well, as I’m pretty sure this may be the only non-destroyed carved pumpkin left in New Asgard, it looks like you, Thor, are the winner of the pumpkin carving contest!”
Loki’s mouth dropped open. “What?!”
“Wow! What a pleasant surprise!” said Thor jovially. “Why, I didn’t even realize there was a contest!”
“Oh, yes,” said Korg. He produced the flint-corn crown and placed it on the rhino horn on Thor’s head. “All Hail Thor Odinson, King of the Pumpkin Patch!”
The crowd, still covered in gooey pumpkin innards, let out an uproarious cheer.
“Hail Thor Odinson, King of the Pumpkin Patch!”
Thor grinned. He picked up Love and placed her on his shoulders, and they did a victory lap around what had been the pumpkin patch; the crowd followed, cheering all the while. Once they’d made a complete circle, Thor placed Love back on the ground and ascended his hay throne, holding out his arms and smiling widely. The crowd went wild. Thor then took the flint corn crown off his rhino horn and tossed it into a gaggle of women in the crowd; a woman caught it, screamed, and promptly fainted.
Loki watched the scene unfold, arms crossed, a sulky expression on his face. Sylvie approached him, grinning teasingly.
“Always a Prince, never a King, huh?”
“Don’t,” said Loki, holding up a finger. “Just don’t. I’m simply not in the mood.”
“Oh, don’t be so upset, Loki,” Sylvie said consolingly. She bumped him with her shoulder. “You can always be king of my pumpkin patch.” She wagged her eyebrows suggestively.
Loki smiled begrudgingly. He opened his mouth to respond, when—
“You’re growing pumpkins next year, Auntie Sylvie?”
Sylvie spun around. Love was standing behind them, her head tilted, her expression curious.
“Oh.” Sylvie stared back, wide-eyed. “Uh…um…yes? Yes. I am. Of course. That’s definitely what I meant when I said ‘pumpkin patch’. Yes.”
Love clapped. “Awesome!” she said. “I’m gonna go tell Uncle Thor!” She wiped a few stringy pumpkin pieces from her cheek and grinned, then went skipping back over to Thor, her giraffe head bobbing playfully.
Sylvie watched her go. She sighed.
“Well, shit. Now it looks like I’m going to have to actually plant a pumpkin patch next year.”
Loki grinned. He pulled a few strings of pumpkin innards with white seeds still attached from her hair and held them out to her. “Better get cracking, darling. Those pumpkins aren’t going to grow themselves.”
“Oh, piss off.”
Loki laughed. They made their way back over to Thor and Love. Loki waved his hand and, in a flash of green light, they were all cleaned of the pumpkin gunk.
“Well, that was a disaster,” said Sylvie wryly. She turned to the others. “What shall we do next?”
