It started with one innocent suggestion.
“Let’s carve pumpkins, yeah? Get in the spirit.”
You should’ve known better; because with Task Force 141, nothing stays “simple.” Not for long.
Within an hour, the cozy fall evening you’d envisioned: the hot cider, the soft music, the gentle glow of candlelight; had transformed into a full-scale pumpkin apocalypse. The kitchen table became a command post. The yard became a warzone. And the pumpkins? Casualties. So, so many casualties.
Soap’s the main culprit, obviously. He’s engineered what he calls “Pumpkin Bombs," hollowed-out gourds filled with glitter and… suspiciously reactive compounds. He’s covered in pulp and triumph, yelling “FIRE IN THE PATCH!” every time one launches from his makeshift catapult (which may or may not have once been Gaz’s laundry rack).
Gaz, bless him, tried to stay neutral; but neutrality didn’t last. Now he’s got pumpkin seeds in his hair, a riot shield made from a trash can lid, and a GoPro strapped to his chest as he narrates the carnage like he’s hosting a nature documentary: “And here we observe the elusive Ghost… stalking his prey through the mulch.”
Ghost: stoic, calm, absolutely terrifying, has painted a jack-o’-lantern to look like his mask and perched it on a target dummy. When Soap hits it, Ghost just stares at the wreckage like he’s plotting Soap’s untimely demise via decorative gourd. “Congratulations, Johnny. You just killed my cousin.”
And Price? Oh, he’s standing off to the side, cigar clenched between his teeth, muttering something about how “the last time I saw this much orange, it was the desert.” Yet somehow, somehow, he’s the one who brings out a leaf blower and turns it into a tactical advantage.
You, poor, innocent you: sit on the porch steps, cider forgotten, watching the 141 destroy what was supposed to be a wholesome holiday activity. It’s chaos. It’s nonsense. It’s family.