Creepy - Day 2 - The Pumpkin Question & I'm Still the Expert

Episode Date: October 2, 2022

The Pumpkin Question***Written by: LeoOfAlexandria and Narrated by: Cole Burkhardt***I'm the Expert***Written by: Sum Gigh***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Pacific Obadiah***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

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Creepy presents. The 31 Days of Horror. Day 2. The Pumpkin Question. Written by Leo of Alexandria and narrated by Cole Burckhardt. Time's up, John. I always try to make it my clandestine mission to shut the Casio timer I've set for 60 minutes off. before the 80s-style alarm rings.

I don't want the patient to hear the alarm signaling the end of their session. They know they're already paying for my services, sure, but there's no need to have such an abrupt auditory end to it. He stutes up on the couch, using his elbows to move to a sitting position. John wipes his eyes and blows his nose with the same tissue he's been using for the entire session. As with most sessions, he seemed relieved. in a good way, and thanks me. I say the pleasure is all mine, as I always do, and I genuinely mean it.

Funny that about 90% of my clients chose to lay down on the couch I have in my office, I never tell them to. I have two very comfy-looking chairs, in my opinion, for their sitting pleasure. But I understand. I didn't have to go through over a decade of schooling to understand that when people are laying out their deepest, fears, insecurities, pains, and uncomfortable truths, that they don't always want to look at a stranger when doing so. I shake hands with John, and he's on his way. He's doing well. I cannot disclose what he's here to talk to me about, of course, but he's come a long way. I can disclose this to my therapist, Dr. Long. The idea that a therapist needs a therapist is somewhat of a cheeky joke, but

I can tell you that most of us absolutely do have our own psychiatrists. It's a career that I absolutely love and have a burning passion for. Something I've always wanted to do. But holy Chimmy Chandra, I'm going out of my mind, A, if I don't talk to someone about other people's problems. And I did to put my own personal issues out there as well. 20 minutes north of a drive in my solid ram truck, and I'm at Dr. Long's practice. It's always a pleasant traverse. I work in the city, and he's just on the outskirts of said city. I guess that's making it when you can have your own private practice in a more suburban area closer to your own home by the lake.

Don't get me wrong, I'm more than happy for him, and he absolutely deserves it. Not only is he my therapist, he's my mentor. He helped me through school, advertised me on my thesis, and then agreed to personally see me every Tuesday and Thursday. Not many mentors will do that. He's even given me the family discount for our sessions, which is just full price. A joke, I guess. I never got it, but I'm sure one day I will.

On my drive, I happen to notice a door with a black cat Halloween decoration on it. it. Happy Halloween, it plainly said. The cat's face was very grumpy, a la Garfield, I'd say. I suppose this was the joke, as cats aren't happy about anything. Nothing out of the ordinary, but it's August. August first, specifically. No one puts Halloween decorations out early, and no one keeps them out after. It's the one holiday I've seen where decorations come the hell down on November 1st. Halloween is the takeoff to the holiday season, but it's like we want to move on to cheerier turkey and Santa-related holidays as soon as the spouty season is done. Hey, sport, Dr. Lon shouts. I almost fell down the three steps leading to his practice. I was so

engrossed in the off-season Halloween decorations that I didn't even realize I was already standing outside his office. Shit, I'm sorry, doctor. I was just spent. I was just spacing out. I shook my head as trying to focus up on my therapy session. No problem at all, my boy. You always had some issues photosing at the task at hand. With this, Dr. Long lets out a huge belly laugh. He knows I graduated near the very, very top of my class. I was certainly no slouch. Speaking of Santa from before, this guy resembles him to a tea, especially when he laughs. Yonder, though. His long hair and beard still have a good amount of brown, but they are quickly losing the battle to the white hair army. He's, of course, a big man also, the first requisite to being a Santa doppelganger.

It still makes me chuckle that it's more accepted if you are overweight as a doctor, if you are in any field of psychology, than if you are a physician, general practice, or even a surgeon. I know that even I take a pause when I've been treated for minor injuries or getting a physical when I see a fat doctor walk in. The session goes as it always does. I unloaded what's been on my mind from my clients, and then I tell them what's been bothering me lately. Usually it's working through parental issues, standard stuff. It went well. I never get too emotional. Just want to shed a bit of the weight of what I've heard from my current.

current sessions. I don't know if other therapists have this issue, but sometimes I just have to tell someone the crazy things I've heard. And I can't ethically do that to anyone else in the world. Unlike my alarm clock method, Dr. Long has the hour session down to a science. I can tell when the time is just about up when he takes his glasses off. Unlike the majority of my own clients, I don't need to lay down on the Freud couch. Sitting on on the brown leather chair, more comfortable than it looks, I start to rise to my feet. You, uh, you want to talk about the pumpkin thing, Terry? I stopped myself from cracking an awkward smile.

No, not this time, Doctor. He smiles politely. I've told you, Terry. We've been colleagues now for a couple of years. You can call me Kyle. I smile back and nod, shaking his hand. Next time, Dr. Long. My real name is Tortus Malcolmor.

Odd, I know. My parents were hippies, short answer. Still are, I suppose. They followed that Hindu thinking that the world is on a turtle or tortoises back. I hated the name as a kid. I couldn't even shorten it to tort. That sounded even dumber. Closest thing I'd think of was Terry.

Even as a 10-year-old, I tried to make that stick. and it did. My parents won't call me that, but everyone else does. Maybe one of the reasons I went into the medical profession. I wanted to be as far away from their wacky, hippy ideals as possible. I flipped my desktop calendar to October 30th, less than 20 hours until my least favorite holiday. The whole month of October has held some stress for me. People go nuts during the 10th month of the year.

They're dressed up like ghosts and evil people. They put pumpkins on their stoops and lawns. They cut into the oversized fruit with glee, carving wicked faces of all kinds, illuminating that face with fire. I guess I associate those damn fruits with some of the worst times of my life. When I was finishing up my undergrad in Central Michigan University, fire up, chips, I was robbed and beaten pretty badly outside of my dorm room. Just a few years later, as I was finishing my doctor at Penn State, I was suspended

from my internship during research at the Children's Hospital. The official allegation was that some nurses felt uncomfortable around me. To this day, I'm not sure what that means. I profess my innocence to this day and never did anything of ill-will towards anyone. No one went missing, if that's what you're asking. To take it back to childhood, I got lost inside one of those mirror mazes when I was about 11. It was at the county fair during Halloween, of course. It seems silly now, but I was really panicking. I could not find my way out of that demon maze. All I could see was myself over and over and over again. The lights kept dimming. My parents, I don't know where they went, probably getting loaded with their dumb hippie friends. I somehow found my way out, hyperventilating and puting my little

11-year-old guts out. I think I've determined that this is the moment I wanted to go explore how fear and emotion affects us. Being a psychiatrist was the perfect career goal. Even with my history of awful octobers, I still don't know why the pumpkin makes me feel so terrible. Even with a doctorate in psychiatry and psychology, I still don't have a definite answer. I was never touched inappropriately by a pumpkin as a child, as far as I know. Fascinating, too, is the term jack-o-lantern. There are no other names that fruits go by. An apple is an apple, unless candied, I guess.

A watermelon is a watermelon. But when a pumpkin is given a carved-out smile, we call it a jack-o-lantern. There are a couple different schools of thought as to the origins of this. One is that the early American revolutionaries carried pumpkins with candles inside, making it a cheaper alternative to actual lanterns. The other is that some guy called Jack was taken pity on by the devil, and when he died, he was neither accepted into heaven nor granted access to hell. The devil allowed him to roam the earth with his prized turnips,

lighting them to guide others. Weird, I know. Another session with John. Halloween. He's doing much better. He's accepting his upbringing with his parents. It wasn't as bad as he imagined. Time's up, John.

I decided to walk home. I enjoyed the smells of the nearby lake. I thoroughly loved the way our trees have changed into fire-like colors. I didn't wholly love the kids with pumpkin t-shirts, but I'll let that one go. The jack-o-lanterns are rotting. It's time to put them to the curb. It's December, after all. It's...

December? I called Dr. Long. No answer. I left a voicemail. Hey, Dr. Kyle, it's me. I'm seeing more and more pumpkins. I don't know what the hell that's about.

I know it's October and all, but I think... No, no, it's almost Christmas. Why are their pumpkins still around? I need to get into this with you, finally. Text me back when you can fit me in, before our usual appointment. I'm sitting here in my modest ranch home, sipping a Canadian whiskey backed up by a white claw. Drelty to some, but comforting to me.

The nurses at Penn State Children's Hospital love them. A knock came from my front door, metallic in sound. I quickly put my drinks away. Don't want to have that out to see for whom ever may be at the door. Oh, good. It's only Dr. Long. Kyle. Uh, Dr. Kyle. What are you doing here at my home? He smiles, his familiar St. Nick's smile, full of warmth and acceptance. He lets himself in, taking a seat in my dining room. He slaps a knee, then motions for me to sit next to him.

I do as he motions. I stared at him for a moment, probably too long to be called a moment. You wanted to see me, Terry? I shook my head, coming back to the here and now. Um, yes, yes, I did. I've been having some real issues lately. I don't know why it's gotten worse. What's gotten worse?

He spoke slowly. I gave him a look that said, you know what's gotten worse. The pumpkins, Doc, they're all over. Usually after Halloween, they're gone. I don't even know what happened. Yesterday was Halloween. Today is almost Christmas Eve. He pondered.

He crossed his legs. His cordorite pants causing friction that I hoped wouldn't start a fire in my home. Who wears cords anymore? Well, Dr. Long pondered, stroking his brownish goatee. I think you can't comprehend. what you've done to elicit these pumpkin demons quite yet. You have to tell me what happened, Terry. I stinted my eyes.

What do you mean what I've done? You know me better than anyone, and even my stoner parents know me as well as you do. He laughed. Not a scoff or an impolite laugh, a laugh that was comforting. He played like he was on my side. Terry, tort.

"'Tortus.' He took a deep breath. "'That's the only thing you haven't made up. I get why you would hate that name. My blood started to feel like it was slowly freezing. I couldn't understand why.' He continued, "'Most people, men especially,

blame their parents, mothers, especially, on any little issue that finds their way into their lives. Before I continue, I'd like to ask you one question. Is that okay, Terry? Again, my eyes squinted, and my nose scrunched in confusion. Of course it's okay, I stated. Okay, good. Dr. Ludo uncrashed his legs and took the teacher's stance, leaning forward, elbows inside of his thighs, hands clasped underneath his chin, crazy blue eyes staring at me.

What happened to those nurses at Penn, Terry? He, of course, gave me no response, as he's done every time I've asked this question. I've been assigned to interview Mr. Macklemore since his incarceration, and subsequent transfer to the forensic center. I had no issue traveling the extra 100 miles every week to see him when he got moved. It's truly fascinating. One more time, Mr. McElmore. Where are the bodies? You loved them, didn't you?

Or did you feel like they were making fun of you? Disrespecting you? Making you feel worthless. I have not quite gone this hard on him yet. His reaction is impressive. I can see the rage under his face, but he keeps his voice calm. My note-taking is interrupted by a knock at the steel door behind me. Visiting is over, even for professional visits.

"'Anything, Doc?' "'The Hulk of a correctional officer known as Bill asked me. "'He's one of my longtime COs here, seen a lot of criminally insane. "'Naw, Bill, same as always. "'I handed my visitors pass and get my court-ordered paperwork timestamped on my way out. "'After our initial interview, I saw how much he wanted to become a psychiatrist. "'He was not too far away from that goal. "'I thought it might help if we indulged his desire,

and let him pretend that he had led a different life after the implacable Penn State nurse slangs. Terry's trial will be starting in about 11 months. It will start on October 1st. A trial of a man charged with premeditated first-degree murder, a trial that I've tried to prevent. He is guilty, that I am sure, but he didn't premeditate anything. I don't know why yet, but those damn... Pumpkins coinciding with the entire month of October did something to him that we might never know. He's not a fantastic mind. He regales me with his weekly sessions of his patience. Truly a fantastic mind.

For your bonus episode, Creepy Presents, I'm still the expert. Written by some guy. Hey, um, it's getting to be that time of year again, huh? Time year when people start to get all excited by horror movies and creepypastas and memes about doing witch shit or, as I call it, tax season. This must be how accountant's feeling April. In case you don't remember, I'm the expert. I'm the guy who's responsible for letting people know what's going on with their house or cursed object or what have you. I figured that since we're getting into the swing of this season,

I'd do a little PSA for stuff you're likely to hear for the next month. At least the ones I hear about the most and have to wade through and debunk. The guy on the phone who just so happens to know your demon's history? That's me. The old guy signing books about something startlingly similar to what's happening to you? Also me. The person who goes out and bears the exact thing you need to reverse your curse and it just so happens to be within driving distance?

You guessed it. First of all, at some point you're probably going to hear about something with a smile that seems too wide for its face. Listen, I don't know why smiles are so big in the creature-encrypted world, but they are. And yeah, for the most part,

those smiles are pretty big and forced. Now, as far as a smile being too big for a face, I don't really know what the hell that means. Are we talking like the family from the Soundgarden music video Black Hole Sun? Because then, yeah, I'm going to go ahead and say that's creepy as hell. Honestly, I think the term's just something writers came up with for a really big smile. And I'll admit, it does sound better. And with the smile, there's always teeth.

First, it's a smile too big for its head, then it's too many teeth for its mouth. I mean, come on. If you got some really big smile, you're going to have a lot of teeth, aren't you? Look pretty silly to have this big-ass grin and some hillbilly set of choppers. Just sort of goes hand in hand. And it's completely accurate. In my line of work, you can't even begin to describe how many teeth I have lying around my workshop. It's literally dusty with teeth in here.

And a few parents out there think it hurts when you step on a kid's Lego pieces. Imagine stepping on stray teeth that's something. tooth fairy lost or one of these things that sheds teeth like a shark. They're all sharp as hell, and some of them are shaped so weird. I dug an octagonal tooth out of my heel a couple of days ago. Octagonal. How's that even a thing? What else?

Oh, you've probably already heard this a lot, but there's going to be a cacophony. Honestly, I don't even know what a cacophony sounds like, but it seems like Everyone ever goes through some spooky shit has to describe a noise as being cacophonous. You'll never hear me in a bar during happy hour telling you about the time I got caught in a time loop filled with the screams of the mentally anguished and say it sounded like a cacophony. You know why? Because I'm not thinking about big words when it comes to my day-to-day life. I wouldn't say, Then, as I phoned myself untethered from my corporeal being, my senses were assaulted by a cacophony of anguish.

No. What I would say, and what I have said as recently as last Thursday, is that so I'm floating there. Ass over T-Catlin, a bunch of kids' voices are screaming at me. But you know what? That's probably why I don't have a publishing deal. Teach their own. I know things look a lot different from the inside, especially when that inside is an endless void of torment where the concepts of pleasure and pain blend together and... Really, just the best way. Um, looks like I still got a few minutes until I need to put on a wig and fake beard for my next Zoom call. I think I'm supposed to be British, but honestly I say I'm more Irish when I do it.

And don't even come at me about my southern accent. I'm trying my best. Oh, time. That's a big one. Holy shit. Why is it you all have something scary happened to you and time stretches on forever, even though it was Probably only a few seconds. You know what a few seconds that stretches into forever really feels like?

A few seconds. You got all romantic and hyperbolic in hindsight, don't you? Like what happened to you was so much worse than that time I took a trip down to Mexico. Did the whole Chichenitsa thing? Beautiful part of the world down there. And no, I don't know anything about the legends down there. I have an associate Guillermo who's the expert for most of Latin America. Good guy.

Took me for the best of Lote I've ever had. had. Anyway, so I go to the Sonota, which is basically a big hole in the ground with water in it. Very touristy, very pretty. If you go down all these stairs and these two ledges, you can jump off into the water. So, I go to the higher ledge because I kind of have a few heights I'm trying to work through, and I jump. And you know what? It took a few seconds hit the water. Not forever. Not an eternity. Jump. One, two, splash. Now, there was a series of hands that might have reached up and grabbed my ankles and tried to pull me down into a world beyond worlds, but that's a completely unrelated curse that flares up on me from time to time like a hemorrhoid.

Hmm. Oh, old gods whose names have been forgotten in time. I'm going to take the bullet on that one. I lost the notebook I had with all their names in it. In my defense, it was mostly gibberish. I don't even know how anyone translated those names. names to English in the first place. But you look at a name that's got like five apostrophies in and try to pronounce it. Honestly, we're all better off. You know how much time of my life I'd have to spend practicing those names before meeting someone in a park when the sky is gray and there's a gentle mist falling to impress upon

you the bleakness of your situation? And guess what? I probably saved humanity with that little blunder anyway. These things are big and powerful and conquerors of worlds who can blot out the sun and all that. But they aren't any smarter than a golden retriever. And just like Lassie, it ain't coming to your beck and call if you don't say its name. So, you're welcome.

Sure, you might get lucky with a here boy once in a while, but you really need to think long term once it gets there if you aren't able to bind it with its own sacrilegious moniker. I'm quoting that, by the way. So, yeah, I think that's most of the stuff to watch out for, at least the big ones I can think of right now. But if you got questions, feel free to send them my way on some random deep web message board

no one would ever realistically be able to find who could actually help you anyway. I wouldn't worry too much about witches. Most of them are really awesome, especially if you know where the whole flying on broomsticks thing came from. But I'm not going to get into that in case there's kids listening.

If you hear a bump in the night, I don't recommend selling your house. Looks like interest rates are going up and the market's starting to swing towards the buyers again. So honestly, if it's just, Just a little noise, get used to it. If you start feeling like something's trying to squeeze your heart in your sleep and tear your soul from your body or strip the marrow from your bones, then I'd at least look into

turning your place in an Airbnb. You can make a mint with people looking for the scare experience. Beyond that, you know, just be cool. Relax. It's October. Have some fun. Watch some scary movies. You like some, you won't like some, but move on.

Oh, and if you work for one of those big stores that started selling Christmas decorations in September, can you pass along a fuck you for me? I may be busy, but I still need to make a living. Enough with this war on Halloween. All right. Take care. Have a happy October. For more information on this podcast, including how to submit your own story for consideration,

please visit creepypod.com. You can also follow us at CreepyPod on social media and YouTube. All stories told on this podcast are done so through Creative Commons Share-A-like licensing or with written consent from the authors. No portion of this podcast may be rebroadcast or otherwise distributed without the express written consent of the creepy podcast production team and the stories author.