A better look

Ben moved along the street slowly on his bike. He dipped his foot into the piles of leaves. He passed a bakery and filled up his lungs on it.

Near his house there were jack-o-lanterns on most porches. Some of them were very crudely done by the local children, he assumed. One, though, held his attention. It was really no better than the others. The shapes were in the right place, but the quality of the lines were somehow better. More dynamic. Better for looking at.

He approached it and picked it up. He turned it around in his hand. It really was very good. He thought for a moment about taking it home to show his fiance' and when he did the front door of the house swung open with a crash. This sound startled Ben. He dropped this pumpkin and it shattered into pieces on the sidewalk.

In the doorway stood a fat man in a football jersey.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He said.

"Nothing. I'm very sorry," said Ben. "It was so good. I wanted another look. A better look."

"Well it doesn't look very good now, does it?"

"No, it's not like it was. I'm very sorry. I'll be happy to buy you a new pumpkin."

"What about the labor?"

"What was that?"

"I spent an hour on that."

"You carved that? It really was very good. Should I get two then?"

"And some beer."

"Some beer? Okay. What flavor?"

But the fatass had closed the door and Ben stood there half on his bike over the shattered remains of this jack o lantern.