AN: This has been a work in progress since last Halloween, one of my longest endeavors ever, and I'm nearing the homestretch so it's time to start adding. Reviews encourage me to type up the rest of this, as it's in my little purple star notebook at the moment. My warning is that this is not a soft story: it's violent, emotional, and, well, a little gory. Prepare thyself for...

October

Lisa Simpson bit her lip in deep concentration, sawing deftly through the spherical object's firm orange flesh. After she'd cut a nearly perfect circle, she tugged on the top, utilizing the jagged knife to saw through the stringy guys holding fast to the cap of the pumpkin.

"Gimme the knife, Lis. This plastic safety one mom gave me won't even cut my finger, let alone carve a pumpkin."

Lisa shook her head with a discerning grin, "It's not supposed to cut you, just vegetables."

Sitting adjacent to her on the front porch, it was fairly easy for Bart to snatch the impliment out of his sister's hand and for said girl to give him a dirty look. The boy didn't look up as he carved intently, much less precisely than she, "I thought pumpkins were fruit. Seeds, ya know?"

Indeed, she did, as Lisa had just gotten an icy cold handful. She pulled her hand out of the pumpkin in question and splayed her palm. Orange endtrails were laced throughout a mound of flat, white seeds. "I suppose."

The female Simpson dumped her mitfull into a small plastic grocery bag with a Kwik E Mart logo printed on the side. In even tinier print, beneath the green and red logo, were the words "Where Else Will You Go?"

With the inside of her pumpkin clean and cavernous, Lisa used the plastic knife (which she was unwilling to admit did not work half as well as the metal blade her sibling had swiped) to sufficiently cut along the guidelines she'd previously penciled in.

Her brother chuckled, and Lisa peered up innocently, truly lost in her love of the art of pumpkin carving. "Everything is just such a science with you. Don't you ever just enjoy things? Wing it, or something?"

Lisa's brow furrowed slightly, "I enjoy science, and ergo, doing things scientifically."

Bart waved a dismissing hand, "Don't let it bother you, Lisa. You don't want to become a Mad Scientist." With that, he reached a hand deep inside his own veggie/fruit and came up with a mound of goop that met his sister's face at point blank range.

The boy was on his feet, laughing heartily, before she could even react. Cold, slithery orange threads fell over her face and eyes, and it was not long before she leapt to her feet. "How scientific is this, bitch?"

Her exclamation and flagrant use of vulgarity froze the boy in his tracks, and that was how he came to find himself with the entire contents of his sister's pumpkin being noogied mercilessly into his hair.

"Ack! Mom! Dad! Maggie-oof!"

Lisa had tackled him hard on the cement porch, and he looked up to see his father in the open doorway shaking his fist. "Hey, Marge! The smart one is beating on the other one. Go, Lisa; go!"

Bart's world was a blinding flash of yellow, red, orange, and then green as his sister got him in a hold and jammed his face down in the grass. The leave ridden fall grass was deafeningly crunchy in his ears, but it couldn't disguise the fact that his sister was still laughing. The sound was deep, maniacal, and not at all Lisa.

Considering how infrequently she got the better of him in physical battles, it was shocking how easily the girl had overtaken him. The thought crossed the kid's mind that maybe she'd just never really tried before now.

"Lisa, get off your brother!" Marge's voice burst across the lawn, and he heard fast footfalls thumping in the dirt.

Bart's lungs burned as the boy gasped for air, but inhaled mostly bits of broken leaf and dead grass. "Say Uncle!" his sister demanded. Lisa then grabbed his wrist with both hands, one knee at the base of his spine, and began twisting his arm incredibly hard behind his back. "Say it!"

The boy did say it, but it was muffled in the lawn. The volume was incomprehensible to that of the scream that followed when his arm snapped. White spots, like pumpkin seeds, swam into his vision and spun freely.

Then, Bart Simpson promptly passed out.

~*~*~*~