The Great Pumpkin Caper
"Carter?" I scratch my head as I survey my lawn. The lawn I work hard on just to keep up with the neighbors. You know; aerate, water, fertilize, mow every week during the summer. The one a golf course manager would weep to own? Yeah, that lawn. "Why does it look like a pumpkin patch teleported onto my front yard?"
"Whatta ya think, sir?" Carter grins as if she's won the lottery and is going to share the proceeds.
"I think I see my entire summer's work going to the dogs, or the pumpkins as the case may be."
"It won't be for long, sir, just until Halloween is over."
"Halloween is still a week away."
She grins even wider, if possible, and bounces on her toes. "Yes sir, just enough time to get all these pumpkins carved! If we enlist a little help that is."
See, that's exactly what I'm worried about. Hundreds of feet, probably booted, if she's thinking about recruiting Mountain personnel. I watch her survey the op area with excited anticipation. Carter doesn't do excited, it's not in her DNA. Partly because she's in the Air Force and military personnel tend toward phlegmatic; partly because her life is full of stuff still considered science fiction on our planet.
Just the thought of all those booted feet on my golf course lawn is raising my blood pressure. An excited Carter is almost too much to bear.
"You know that new grocery store that just opened a couple of weeks ago in the Springs?"
"Ye-ah." She must have wiped out all their bins if that's where this flurry of pumpkins came from. I wonder if they'll take them back?
"They were selling pumpkins as a loss leader, obviously, since they were only two bucks each! Can you believe it! And I when I offered to buy by all three bins, the manager gave me an even better discount!"
Now she's practically dancing. I scratch an eyebrow, wondering if I can possibly return all these tonight, under cover of darkness. There's got to a hundred and fifty, maybe two hundred pumpkins, all dumped in a pile in the middle of my once velvety lawn. She drives one of those little foreign numbers. Even with the top down she couldn't have fit more than ten or fifteen pumpkins in the thing. Not to mention the two or three dozen twined bales of hay stacked between me and the neighbors on the right.
And then she says the magic words. "I think Daniel's gonna love it, sir."
Busted. So much for my lawn, 'cause she's absolutely right. Adult Daniel avoided all holidays like the plague; this incarnation believes holidays were created purely for his pleasure. Guess she figured go big or go broke, since it'll be hard to beat last year when we went on a scavenger hunt and came home with Hershey as the prize, the night before Halloween.
Speak of the devil – two devils actually – the front door slams against the siding as Hershey barrels out, with Daniel on his heels, the pair of them practically knocking Carter on her ass.
"You found pumpkins! Lots 'n lotsa pumpkins," Daniel hollers, grabbing Carter's hands and pulling her into an impromptu version of the Twist.
"Yep," she laughs, twirling him under her arm before he breaks away as Hershey, never one to be left out, lets out a howl worthy of a hound dog before trotting off to sniff every single pumpkin. Daniel follows, variously patting, rubbing or thumping until he comes across one big enough to climb up and sit on, then he folds himself into a lotus position on top, all giggles and grins.
Carter has her phone out taking pictures as if she owns a cloud storage company, or at the very least, stock in one. Which, for all I know, she may. Big Daniel invested in a few tech start-up companies that have taken off since he was shrunk by the Telchak device. He could be a millionaire several times over by the time he grows up again; if that's what it takes. I admit, it would be awfully nice to dump a portfolio worth a million bucks in his lap if he were to suddenly be big again, though that coup is probably a couple years out yet at the current rate of return. And I'm torn on this one. We all want big Daniel back on the team, but none of us want to give up Little Daniel. A real rock and a hard place, if you know what I mean.
And that brings me back to my front yard full of pumpkins.
"Teal'c suggested the hay bales, sir, we can stack them at various heights to display carved pumpkins. Come Halloween, your neighbors are going to be green with envy, sir, when you pull off another impossible holiday feat."
Now she's trying to butter me up and she knows my sweet spots too damn well. You probably have no idea, but I have to confess to a competitive streak. I like having the best lawn in the neighborhood, the best-lit house and yard at Christmas, the most attractive annuals in my flower beds spring, summer and fall. Yes, even before this Daniel came along, I was a bit obsessed with my standing in the neighborhood. So yeah, Carter knows where to prod to prompt the response she wants.
"T came with the idea for a block party, too. We have enough pumpkins we could let anyone who wants to, carve one and take it home," she says, watching Daniel climb up and drape himself over another pumpkin almost as big as an ATV. Well, maybe one of those kid-sized, battery operated all terrain vehicles. Big enough that we could make another carriage out of it for Hershey to pull. But that's so last year; been there, done that already. "And then have the SGC personnel come out and carve the rest before Halloween night. I bet Siler'd create something – maybe a few somethings – spectacular."
I hmmmm in the back of my throat. Block party and a SGC party all in one week? "Okay, but you and Daniel have to organize the block party."
"Already on it, sir. I called Marjorie on the way here and she was all over the idea. She'll call Sheriff Ron and get permission to shut the block down and she offered to put flyers on mailboxes tomorrow. We thought we'd do it Friday evening and then we can have the SGC over on Halloween Sunday."
"A bit presumptuous, Carter?" I give her the hairy eyeball, but she's still watching Daniel, who's attempting to shove Hershey's hairy butt up on top of a slippery pumpkin. I can't tell if Hershey's cooperating in this endeavor or trying to escape.
Beside me, Carter shrugs. "For Daniel, sir." But she doesn't make eye contact.
Right. Of course I was going to say yes, but a little coaxing to get it out of me was too much trouble? "I assume you'll let me know how many from the SGC accept the invitation?"
"Teal'c and I will handle everything, sir. I've already called a caterer, I want everyone to have fun, including you."
Now she peeps at me, her grin turning sly. "If you're slaving over the grill, who's gonna carve a Wizard of Oz pumpkin? I found some really cool patterns online."
"How long have you been working on this idea, Carter?"
"Well, I've been thinking about it for a while, but then when I saw the pumpkins so cheap, I couldn't resist."
Her itsy-bitsy sports car is sitting my driveway. I look at it, then at her.
She laughs. "Yeah, no, I didn't make six dozen trips. I called a friend on the military side at Cheyenne, he sent over a private with a troop hauler and six grunts to help load and unload. You'd be surprised how much room two hundred pumpkins takes up."
"They certainly take up a lot of my front yard."
"Just for a week, sir, and if there's any damage to the lawn, I'll bring in a lawn service to repair it. I just think Daniel's gonna love this, sir."
"Do I have to dress up?"
Carter pivots on a back heel, turning to look at me fully. "This from the man who stole how many reindeer and moved them to the school lawn?" she queries coolly, looking me up and down. "Where'd that spirit of adventure disappear to, sir?"
"Fine, as long as I can be Homer Simpson."
"I bought yellow body paint, too."
I don't think she means it tongue-in-cheek.
"And a mess of hair gel."
"Now you're just messing with me."
"No, sir." She lopes over to the car and pulls out a bag from a theater arts store in the Springs that caters to actors. Daniel and Hershey come roaring over as she holds open the bag for me to see it definitely wasn't tongue-in-cheek.
Hershey and Daniel both stick their heads down in it. "What's this Sam?" Daniel pulls out a roll of what looks like gauze.
"That's to make mummies. Since we're going to have two Halloween parties this year, and go trick or treating Sunday night, I thought you and Hershey might like to be mummies for one of your costumes."
"We can have three different costumes? One for each party and one for trick or treating too?"
"Sure, if you want! And we have enough time to get costumes together," she adds as a caveat.
"Oh, mummies are dead people all wrapped up in bandages," Daniel says in an aside to the dog. "You know, like zombies."
Hershey yanks his head out to look at Daniel and I'm pretty sure he just told the kid, no mummies.
"But it would be fun, and you'd look really cool, Hersh, all wrapped up like a mummified dog."
Hershey tilts his head, closing one eye.
"No, no, you don't have to be dead!" Daniel exclaims, hugging the dog with a laugh, "it just makes you look like you're supposed to be dead. I'll show you pictures when we get back in the house."
Hershey sticks his nose back in the bag.
"Okay," Daniel says, again to the canine apparently, pulling out the purple paint. "Sam, Hershey wants a purple stripe down his back."
"Sure! You could go as Prince, Daniel, and Hershey could be your sidekick."
"Whose Prince? Does he have a cool sidekick?"
"Well, no, he was a singer, and he didn't really have a sidekick, but he did a movie called Purple Rain."
Daniel wrinkles his nose. Hershey shakes his head. Ixnay on the Incepray.
"Are you going as Homer, Jack?" Daniel pulls out the yellow paint next.
Guess I'm going as Homer. "Carter, can I sleep in this stuff?" I take the paint from Daniel to read the label.
"Probably not, sir. Unless you want to get new sheets." She reaches down deep into the bottom of the bag. "But – I also bought this." She flourishes a Homer Simpson full head mask.
Bet-ter.
"Jack –"
"No, Hershey may not try it on and fill it full of dog slobber. If he wants to go as Homer, he'll have to get his own mask."
"Jaaackkk, he doesn't wanna go as Homer, he just wants to try it on."
"And again, no. You," I point at Daniel, "back in the house, you didn't put a coat on and it's too cold to be out here in just a t-shirt."
He was fine while the dynamic duo were running around trying out pumpkins, but he's starting to shiver. Hershey herds him back inside.
"Coffee, Carter? I just brewed a fresh pot."
"I had the heat turned up in the car, but I got a little chilled on the drive over. Coffee would be great, sir. Thanks!"
"So," I gesture her into the house ahead of me and close the door behind us. "What are you going as?"
"Haven't even thought about it. Maybe I'll borrow some clothes from dad and go as a Tok'ra. Muggles will think I'm a zombie."
She can't quit grinning. I wonder if it's going to become a permanent feature. It's so not Carter, though she has pulled off a rather sizeable coup, all by herself. If she sticks with the Stargate program for life, she'll undoubtedly make general. Probably before me.
"Daniel, you and Hershey want to look at costumes with me?" She leaves her goody bag in the foyer and follows me into the kitchen, pulling an iPad out of her purse as she sits down at the table. She pulls Daniel onto her lap, sneaking a snoggle that makes him giggle and Hershey puts his paws up on the edge of the table to look over her arm.
"Lucy, are you home?" echoes from the foyer, in Teal'c's baritone, and Murray appears in the kitchen door, complete with fishing hat. "The front of your domicile was open, O'Neill, I took the liberty of entering without benefit of applying for access."
"Anytime, T, though I hope you locked the door behind you."
"Indeed." He gives me the standard head bow. "That is scads of pumpkins Majorcarter."
"Yeah, it is! We're gonna have so much fun, Teal'c!"
"Indeed," Teal'c repeats, pulling out a kitchen chair and making himself at home.
I like having all my kids under one roof. I like hearing them jabber like a flock of birds. I set a bag of double-stuffed Oreos on the table, pass Carter a coffee, Daniel and Teal'c hot chocolate – yeah, the dog gets a very small saucer of hot chocolate, too - and pull out a chair across the table to watch my crew of Incredibles plan a week's worth of Halloween-ing.
The block party is a roaring success, though I'm reminded that we'll have to pull out our cover story if Little Daniel is suddenly gone and Big Daniel is back.
Hershey let himself be convinced to dress up as a mummy dog for this evening and the pair of them have been tearing up and down the block at the speed of light. They're both looking a bit worse for wear as the evening winds down, though their tattered bandages only make them look that much more authentic. I overheard Daniel telling Marjorie from next door that they're zombies now, because no self-respecting Egyptian mummy would be caught dead in tattered bandages. And then go on to assure her mummies were always incased in sarcophagi, so they couldn't really get tattered in the first place, before he raced off to the Patterson's where they've got a firepit going in their driveway and are brewing potions the kids can take home in rubber stoppered vials.
Carter, Teal'c and Daniel, between rounds of costume preparation, created a recipe for some gooey glow-in-the-dark stuff that looks something like Silly Putty. Throw it at anything and it sticks but peels right off. So along with the pumpkin carving going on in our driveway, that's been a big hit, too. Even the adults are coming by trying to sneak away with samples.
Three doors down on the other side of the street, the Nicklebee's set up a haunted maze in their garage, complete with fun house gags, and, I hear, ghosts and ghoulies drifting about above the maze and jumping out to scare people from different places, so you can go through it lots of times and be scared every time. Hershey didn't like it, but Daniel loved it; said he'd been through ten times already.
Someone made toffee apples, Daniel's sticky up to his arm pits and the only thing that's saved Hershey from another haircut is his mummified-ness. The two of them came haring back a few minutes ago to show us the picture they took with the guy at the end of the street who made an awesome Frankenstein costume, and his wife is taking polaroid's of anyone who wants a picture with him. Who knew they still made those things? Daniel reported the wife is dressed as the Bride of Frankenstein. Well, he reported that she's wearing a long white gown with funny streaks in the sides of her that's all piled up on top of her head.
We heard there's a place four or five houses down from us that's set up a game where you stick your fingers in a bunch of bowls and try to guess whether it's brains or eyeballs or guts or blood. Daniel says Hershey didn't like that one either, since he could smell the olives and spaghetti and the watered-down tomato soup. Daniel loved it. But then, I don't think there's a thing he's done tonight that he hasn't loved.
From somewhere up the street, I can hear a karaoke machine and several musically challenged individuals belting out – "I was working in the lab late one night when my eyes beheld an eerie sight, for my monster from his slab began to rise and suddenly to my surprise … He did the Mash, he did the Monster Mash, it caught in a flash, he did the Mash …"
Seriously, can you imagine a better Halloween party? I grab a plastic spoon, take a seat beside Teal'c in the row of lawn chairs set up on the sidewalk and dig into the paper cup of dirt and worms that Carter and Daniel filled the fridge with as they made them by the dozens this morning. Dirt and worms are one thing when you're starved out of your mind having crawled out of some Iraqi prison, not really my thing otherwise. But the two of them were chortling the entire time about eating gummy worms and Oreo dirt as they stuck lopsided candy headstones into the tops. What can I say? I always support the Troops.
It's another hour before the Macgyvered halogen lights rigged up in front and side yards start going out one by one up and down the street. And the porch lights start winking off as Hershey and Daniel trot into the yard, minus most of their mummification. Daniel crawls into my lap, threating the integrity of the plastic mesh of the lawn chair, and snuggles down with a rapturous sigh. Hershey leans against Teal'c's leg as if he's used up the last of his mojo keeping track of Daniel. His sigh does not sound rapturous. Carter, who's just hosed the last of the pumpkin guts that failed to make it into the plastic garbage bags, down our slimy driveway, sits down on my other side with a totally satisfied exhalation. We started at 4:00 this afternoon and the clocking is ticking towards 10:00 p.m., long after our duo's usual bedtime.
"I think we re-homed about half our pumpkins, sir."
"And the lawn, so far, doesn't look like a mosh pit." A win as far as I'm concerned.
"We probably still have a hundred or so more to get carved before Sunday night – Teal'c remind me to email Siler about bringing power tools - but I think we might just manage it."
If tonight was any measure of success, I'm sure by the end of Sunday night, Carter will be up for major awards of some kind, even if it's only Queen of the Block Party.
"Carter, kudos for the entire weekend. If party planning was an Olympic sport, you'd score all perfect 10s. Not even Thea could have outdone you."
"Oh, maybe we should have invited the home-school crew?"
"They'd have been trampled in the mad rush to get all those pumpkins carved today."
"It was a lot of fun," Carter says, standing on tip toe to collect the battery-operated candle from inside a pumpkin that appears to be swallowing a second, smaller pumpkin, hanging from an arm of one of the lamp posts at the bottom of the driveway.
A full moon bathes us in its cold light as Carter, Teal'c and I cull the rest of the candles from the pumpkins the SGC crew carved and ranged around our front yard like a mad artist's gallery this afternoon. Pumpkins preside on hay bales, perch atop short and tall, fat and skinny pillars, sit planted in a couple of wheelbarrows. One wheelbarrow looks like a place you might find Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater among all the little pumpkin houses. In the second barrow there are seven pumpkins ranged along a yellow brick road, each featuring something or someone from The Wizard of Oz. One is a 3D carving of a pair of ruby slippers and with the light shining through, they almost look ruby colored. There are pumpkins, large and small, hanging in macramé cradles from the middle of tree limbs, several more supported in the crooks of those tree limbs. Yet more are placed on the arms and in the seat of one of the Adirondack chairs. They line the sidewalk to the front porch and hover in an uneven chorus line in front of the living room picture window, though if you were to wave your hand over the top of those, you'd encounter the clear fishing line that's been cunningly crafted to support them so they look like they're floating in mid-air. The hay bales have been set on end, piled up, crisscrossed, and dotted with intricately carved, glowing pumpkins.
We'll leave them all up for a day or two, just for the fun of it, but it takes a while to collect the candles from a hundred and one pumpkins. Siler did bring power tools and we learned that a lot of our SGC crew are talented artists. I'd guess half or more were done free-hand, right out of folks' imaginations, no pattern pricking required.
Teal'c's pumpkin carving skills, however, won the impromptu contest. We had to put that one inside before the trick or treaters appeared though. Nor could I let anyone take pictures of it, though I'm sure it will be talked about in the Mountain for years to come. Sadly, it will have to be destroyed before it goes in the composting box as well. But we do have some great pictures of other pumpkins that Daniel and Carter are already planning to put into his scrapbook, along with the polaroid of Daniel and Hershey posing with Frankenstein.
The last trick or treaters, a group of teens, are rattling down the sidewalk as I turn out the lights and the three of us head inside to sprawl in the living room, Carter and I with stuff dwinks, Teal'c with a diet Pepsi. Daniel and Hershey fell into bed a couple of hours ago, worn out from the non-stop fun that was Carter's productions this weekend. They'll want to debrief tomorrow, once they've topped up their energy tanks again.
Just so you know, I gave up the yellow paint and Homer mask to go with team costumes tonight. Daniel was Boba Fett, Teal'c went as Chewy, Hershey was an Ewok, and Carter, shockingly, appeared in a Princess Lea slave costume. Though she cheated by putting a coat on over it when they headed out to take Daniel trick or treating while I manned our front stoop, handing out Hershey candy bars. Yes, full size. Don't tell, but I squirreled away all the Reese's. They're in the freezer, I like 'em rock hard and cold so the chocolate and peanut butter kind of melts in your mouth. Oh, did I forget? They obligingly let me join in as Han Solo, the aging hero.
Carter's got to be worn out. If it weren't for that Tretonin stuff, Teal'c would be too. All I did was what I'd been told to do. Have fun. And I did; almost as much fun as Daniel. But I'm still beat.
"A toast, to our brilliant rocket scientist who could make a fortune party planning if you ever decide to quit the SGC." I lift my glass - not very high, pumpkin carving takes a toll - in salute to Carter.
"Hear, hear," Teal'c intones, raising his glass as well. "What was it Danieljackson said as they were headed for bed? A splen-diff-er-ous weekend? I do not know this word, but I suppose it to be effusive accolades for a job arrestingly done."
"Well done, T."
"Indeed."
"No," I start, then stop. "Never mind. Arrestingly done and dusted, Carter. Put us in your calendar for next year before you're inundated with requests to be the next 'in'" I air quote, "party planner of the decade. Always supposing, that is, this Daniel is still around."
"You don't think adult Daniel would have enjoyed the weekend?" Carter yawns.
I hum for a second, but it doesn't take much thought. "No, not like this incarnation. I doubt he'll stop talking about this until next Halloween." I turn my head lazily on the back of the sofa to look at Carter at the other end. Teal'c is lounged back in the recliner. "So, whatta' ya got up your sleeve for Christmas?"
"Oh," Carter takes a sip of good old Irish single malt whiskey, hiding a smile behind the rim of her stuff dwink. "I have a few ideas I'm mulling over, sir."
"Any of them involve body paint?" That stuff was a mess to get off. The cleaning lady's no doubt going to raise her rate the instant she sees the shower. Fortunately, tomorrow is her regular day, it won't be too dried up.
"Uh, no, sir. No body paint required. But there could be glue and feathers."
"So long as I'm not required to wear either glue or the feathers, I'm in."
"Perhaps you should get that in cursive, Majorcarter."
This has been a work of transformative fan fiction. The characters and settings in this story belong to a whole host of companies I can't remember anymore, since it's been years since I wrote in this fandom. Suffice it to say they're not mine and I'm not making any revenue from the posting of this fan fic. If you are a member of the International LD list, you can go back to the list to see the pumpkin pictures if you're reading out here. Unfortunately for the rest of you, you don't get to see Teal'c's pumpkin carved to look like a Stargate. ::wink:: Or the other pictures of all the pumpkins decorating Jack's front yard. Sorry!