whiskey from a pumpkin

mount saint helen's is back. after i was born the doctors put me in a hollowed out pumpkin because the incubators were full. i blew out the candles on my first birthdaycake through my jack o'lantern's crooked smile. once hollowed, a pumpkin rots quickly, and my urine and droolings only helped advance this process; i recieved a new womb o'lantern weekly. as time went on i quickly grew into a toddler-sized person and had to resort to wearing my weekly pumpkin like a helmet, my head constantly suspended in a reticulum of slime. an uncommon seed gazing out through triangle eyes. once, while left unattended in a department store by a narcoleptic uncle, a middle aged woman in an ugly blue sweater took me to the checkout and tried to buy me, mistaking me for some sort of seasonal decoration. i was too young to understand this and began to cry as they searched my body for a UPC code. by the time i reached adolescence it was decided that i no longer needed these pumpkin-related treatments.
my teen years were pale and squinty and awkward. so naturally i turned to drugs. it started innocently enough, weed and solvents being the order of the day. as my tastes became more advanced i began to prefer the psychoactive properties of hallucinegenic mushrooms. one grey october morning i awoke to find myself curled up in tall grass by the lip of a fog coated highway. i found the dull roar of passing vehicles quite threatening and began to crawl towards a small patch of forest to rest and probably vomit. as i reached the treeline i felt a familiar twinge streak across my face that caused me to look to my immediate left. there, like a tinly glowing sun, was a large, ripe, inviting pumpkin; a slight dusting of morning frost on it's crown. it felt warm in my cold, dewey hands. upon inspection i noticed a hole near the base about the size of a dollar. i peeled and picked and pushed my hand through, only to find a family of feild mice residing inside. they bit and chewed my fingertips as i pulled them out one by one. my heart was racing as i widened the hole. i lay on my stomach, reached around my beautiful orange globe and pulled it over my head. i was home, i was calm, i was smiling and eating seeds. i would stay here until rotting day. i used a large stick to carefully carve out a crude eyehole. it was from here that i saw a hungry male crow feasting on a family of feild mice. i knew once he finished there he would surely move on to my legs, partially exposed through the tears in my jeans. i did not care. he wouldn't get my head.
then that mountain exploded again.