Jack Skellington Pumpkin King Novels & Stories

A large pumpkin sat on the workbench behind him. “Is that a new one?” “It’s a lantern for one of the walking paths at the botanical garden. One of the others broke yesterday, so I’m making a replacement.” “Would you mind if I watched you work for a little while?” I had been curious to see how he carved such designs into the pumpkin’s hard skin. “What? I’m not doing anything particularly impressive, but…you’re welcome to watch if you’re interested.” “I’m extremely interested.” The tips of his ears turned faintly red.

Maybe she would heal his troubled son. For the first time ever, the King’s cheeks heated when he saw his son press his lips onto his wife-to-be’s cheeks. “I would ask you both to get a room but I am the intruder this time. I should have known better than to come here impromptu.” The King joked warmly in a guttural voice that echoed his true happiness. His voice was simply what you would expect of Santa Claus in a mall. Deep, Jovial, fatherly and simply happy.

Instead, there were two cartoon dolls. One doll wearing overalls knocked down a doll wearing a suit with a runny nose, hammered him for a while, and then kicked him away.” Immediately after that, several big characters appeared next to it. “STINKY EGGS DESERVES TO BE BEATEN.” The puppet single-handedly placed his hands on his waist, pointing at the big characters and laughing proudly. The next second, it returned to the previous page and the lights in the conference room came back on. The senior executives were all confused.

Luckily, her face was on me so she didn't get to see someone's head get blown off and be traumatized. The gunshot seemed to have scared her as she sobbed gently and all I could do was console her by massaging her scalp. It's shocking to know that Mr. Pompous was from an orphanage and became the King of New York. I had put Elijah's words together even after he received the kicking of his life. They only made sense when he said Mr. Pompous could barely hold a gun about a decade earlier and also talked about being the rightful King of New York.

The clown we hired gave up at the last minute, and James got one of his acquaintances to act as the clown, and the guy failed woefully. He couldn’t even make his balloons look beautiful. I had suggested we do a royalty-themed party since Nicholas always called himself King and Hope believed she was Cinderelli. I had gotten tired of correcting her that the Disney princess’s name was Cinderella, not what she called it, but she refused to listen. She is a stubborn five-year-old, just like her father.

“Well, baby, he had… some issues with his family, and he just decided to go away and stay gone for a while.” But King wasn’t satisfied; his curiosity was growing. “With his family? Then why is the radio telling the whole world? Or… isn’t everyone in the world hearing the radio like Dad is?” “Yes, baby,” Orlanda said with a patient smile, “everyone can listen to the radio. But this is being announced because he is a public figure, not an ordinary person like most people.” “No ordinary person? Is he a Superman? Or… maybe Ben Tennyson?” King asked, eyes wide with wonder.

He reached out a tentative hand and poked King in the shoulder. King blinked but didn't move. "What are you?" Frank asked. King took a deep breath. "My mama said that my name is King Russell. My Papa said I'm King of the Underworld." He smiled. "You can call me King of the Underworld." Alexis burst out laughing.

A male puppet with a heavy crown walked in from the right, and a deep version of Chloe’s voice said, “I love you, but I can’t play with you all the time. I have many responsibilities as king.” The puppets hugged. “I know, King Daddy,” the princess said. “You’re the best daddy in the world, but you cannot just magically make me a friend.” “I wish I could,” said the king. He walked back the way he came. The music changed and became almost sinister. A wizard puppet I knew well walked on stage. “I can make a magic friend for you, Princess, but you will have to give me your voice.” “I know that trick!” the princess said. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

I resolved. “Silly Ollie,” Jack berated me, “ We're not going to kill him,” Now he just laughed at me. “Then what are we going to do with him, Jack?” I asked skeptically. “He will fetch a nice price. I got someone who pays a pretty penny for an Alpha, even more for a King.” I groaned. Jack looked so pleased with himself like he had just won the biggest prize at the fair. He took out some masking herbs and sprayed them all over King Kellen. Shut the door and climbed back into the passenger seat.