An Excerpt from an Anti-Novel-in-Progress

i fall onto the skeletal pumpkin. it pushes me away. we sit in the fog together. condensation covers our faces. [why did you go into the tree, the skeletal pumpkin asks and burns its accordion face with a tiny match plant.] i bite the skeletal pumpkin. it presses its skeletal mouth together and whimpers several times. [i am not pie, the skeletal pumpkin says. how dare you treat me like that? do you think i am sugared and baked so that you can have a culinary delight? i am not. in fact, i am full of parsley leaves. they grow out of my seeds.

they sprout between my fake teeth. so i am an abortive thing. you cannot press your tongue against me without losing your uterus. it's sad. but necessary. otherwise, everyone would run around trying to peel me open and eat my contents.] the skeletal pumpkin puts its fingers in its eyes. i pull its arms apart and pull the pumpkin onto my lap. [you are so angry, i say and the skeletal pumpkin sighs.] [why did you go into the tree, it asks.] we look up. the tree glows with a pale yellow red light. the light travels from the tree base to its branches. the horizontal branch descends slightly, swinging towards our heads. we duck down. bark faces hiss. [how dare you touch us, the bark asks. you are pathetic. you cannot lay a finger on us without having it be bitten off. pathetic. pathetic. we don't even let the nuns get this close.] the skeletal pumpkin whimpers. its anchovy spine tongue drops out of its mouth and stabs the fog. [i told you not to climb the tree. it's such an angry thing. the meat will burn through its roots and bite you, the skeletal pumpkin says.] it puts its fingers in its eyes and cries softly. i pull its arms out. [would you stop, i ask. you are being overly dramatic.] the skeletal pumpkin crosses its triangle shapes. its gourd rises and falls several times. i pat the skeletal pumpkin and stand up. the devil tree hisses. it spits poison plants in my direction. [how dare you try to face us, the bark faces hiss. we never gave you permission to give us a kiss. if anything, we will tear you into pieces and rip your heart out. do not test us. we have a taste for rotten meat.] i touch the devil tree. i place my feet against the trunk and yank myself up. i smack the bark faces. they whimper. their tongues hang out of their mouths and touch the ground. [abuse, the devil tree cries. you are abusing me within an inch of my tree life.] i crawl through the tree branches. i drag my knees over the faces. i climb onto the horizontal branch and hang down, staring at the burned ash floor for several minutes. [is that what you've been trying to protect, i ask.] the devil tree shudders. its leaves move back and forth. paper rustles against the back of my neck. [i like the meat, the devil tree says.] [then what were you trying to get out of me, i ask.] the devil tree rolls over the ground. it bulldozes the fog. the skeletal pumpkin leaps into the air and lands on my back. [you can't eat us, the devil tree squeals and burrows its vines into my waist.] i reach over my shoulders and smack the skeletal pumpkin. [stop, i say. you're going to make me bleed.] [no blood, the skeletal pumpkin and tree cry.] they puncture my knees. yellow dust drifts out of my swollen caps. powder slicks over the tree, leaving amber stains. [dust skin, the skeletal pumpkin and the tree say.] i fall down.