Ed's Day Off

"Sorry to scare you like that man," Ed says the next day. "Work was really getting me down, and I needed a day off. Did my boss believe your story?" He's whole, sitting on his couch in his Man-United t-shirt.

"Hell yes. People were freaking out. Why didn't you just call in sick?"

Ed sniffs, looking out the window. He's rested - he slept in. "I thought this would be more believable. The 'mental health day' story doesn't cut it. It had to seem real. Don't worry about work, they'll forget about it by Monday. The lemmings at work have the attention spans...uh, of lemmings."

"Well, it sure looked real to me."



"Oh yeah?" he laughs. "I had all these leftover pumpkins from Halloween...it's not like I was going to eat them. What a useless fruit, or whatever the hell they are. Imagine, growing those things all year just so some kid can throw them at cars! What a waste. Anyway, it took me about four hours to paint it up to look like my head. Good thing I have a giant, pumpkin-shaped head! Did it hurt when you fainted?"

"Naw, I landed on your dirty laundry here. What are you going to do now?"

Ed smiles. "I think I'll sit around again today and have some more hot cocoa. Sweet, sweet cocoa. An exploding head merits a four-day weekend, don't you think?"

"Fucking-A, it does."

He tents his fingers. "Goooood. Good. I rented the Family Guy movie. Let's chill, man. I even have some oven-roasted pumpkin seeds to eat. Or as I like to call them, 'jack o'lantern lobotomy offal.'"

"Uh - I think I'll pass on those. I think they've been spoiled for me for good."

"Don't be a pussy."

Ed Has Enough

"ED! Don't do it man! You don't want this!" I scream. But Ed is past that, past the entire after-school special melodrama. I see it in his eyes.

"Fuck it, man. I don't even hate myself. I just don't want to be here anymore," Ed says. The shotgun, it's muffling his words. Slobber trickles down the barrel.

"C'mon, man. Let's go get a beer."

"No. You might want to close your eyes. This isn't like pissing - I don't care if you see it."

I don't, and he pulls the trigger, as promised.

And the last thing I remember is wondering why detonating brain matter looks like moldy macaroni casserole. That, and hearing the patter of urine as Ed's slumping corpse pisses itself. Turns out Ed didn't care if I saw that after all.