Once upon a time there was a cowboy with a pumpkin head named Gallowes. Or there was a pumpkin with a cowboy body named Gallowes. It amounts to the same thing.
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| Our Hero |
One fine Halloween evening Gallowes Punkinstein was paying a respectful visit to the local haunted house.
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| Haunted but nice. |
He noticed that something was wrong in the classically built and tastefully decorated old mansion.
"Hmmm," he said aloud to himself, "The wallpaper seems fine."
"Either these curtains go or I do," he said, then chuckled to himself for ripping off Oscar Wilde.
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| Is that a body? |
"There must be something I am missing." Gallowes puzzled for a bit. "And why do I smell patchouli and unwashed feet," he asked himself.
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| Sniff...sniff...ugh |
Suddenly he realized the problem. Acoustic guitars, candles, bongs and the feeling of smugness mixed with delusion...Hippies!
"Shit," he all but shouted, "I hate hippies."
Gallowes decided he needed some fresh air and a new perspective on things, so he wandered outside.
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| I see a stoner, but where is the plain chick or the dog? |
Parked on the grounds were a number of vans painted in garish designs. Gallowes noticed a hippie, seemingly passed out beside one of them. Odd that; usually where you found one hippie you found at least four more. There was a strange scent of decay underneath the patchouli. The sleeping hippie rose slowly from the ground.
Without warning the hippie attacked!
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| Hey, that's not very peaceful, you shiftless economic drain on society! |
Gallowes fought back bravely with his lightning bolts, for pumpkin cowboys are all talented Tesla-Mages.
The hippie continued to fight, but something was not right about his sluggish movements and slurred speech. Sure, it could have been a particularly powerful grass the commune-jockey had smoked earlier, but Gallowes sensed it was far more sinister.
Even as they struggled he heard more coming. Would he be surrounded and defeated?
Tune in next time for Part 2: Night of the Ungrateful Dead
Keep your pumpkin head lit.
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