“So can we cut the punkin’ now?!” She said, the apology vanishing into the ether.

“Aye, as long as yer mum says we can.”

“Mum said t’start without her. Mum said Padraig needs another bath.”

“Well then, I guess its just me an’ my favorite daughter.” Bricu knelt down next to her, “So what do yeh want t’carve then?”

“I want a giant scary murloc face, with glowy eyes and a mustache!”

“A mustache?” he asked.

“Da, bad guys have mustaches.” Naiara said, matter-of-factly.

“Oh. Right. Murloc with a mustache then.”

“Yeah!” she yelled.
Naiara moved her chair over so she could stand and see the carving in progress. Bricu cut the eyes out the top of the pumpkin, and delegated the job of scooping out the seeds to her. She revelead in it. Naiara took to the pumpkin with both hands, scooping out seeds and a little meat with each and every handful.

“You’re roasting pumpkin seeds again ,right da?”

“I am. An’ I’m makin’ a pie.”

“Whose the pie for.”

“Mum gets the first piece, yeh get the rest. Padraig can have what yeh don’t finish.”

“But what if I eat it all?” Naiara asked.

“Then the next pie, yer mum gets the first piece an’ Padraig can have what’s left an I get what he can’t finish.”

Naiara stopped digging for a moment. Bricu watched her as she did the math in her head. “I’ll make sure to save two pieces. One for you and one for Padraig.”

“Sounds fair t’me. But yeh only need t’save the one.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure I want pumpkin’ so soon, love.”

Naiara returned to digging. When she was finished, she held up her hands and shouted “DONE!”

“That’s me girl. Now, wash yer hands off. I”ll start on the eyes. Aye?”

“Aye Da, Aye!” Naiara jumped from the chair onto the floor, and sprinted towards the water closet.

Bricu turned back towards the pumpkin and started carving. The carving went by quickly–faster than he had thought possible–and before he knew it, he was done. Bricu took a step back to look at his daughter’s new Jack-o-Lantern. Instead of the round eyes, two slits for the snout and a spikey maw that defined a murloc, Naiara’s pumpkin had triangle eyes and yet another triangle for a nose. The mouth was anything but fierce. Naiara’s pumpkin regarded him with a slick smirk, virtually begging for a cigarette. On impulse, he rolled one up and put it in the Jack-o-Lantern’s mug.

“The missus wouldn’t really like that.” He said to the pumpkin. Bricu reached to take the cigarette out when the Jack-o-Lantern blinked.

“Its your friggin’ dream Pal.” The pumpkin said. “Who cares what Dream Threnn thinks? Now leave that smoke in there. I can’t roll one for myself, yet.”

“Oi!” Bricu jumped back from his recently carved pumpkin. “Laz,” he said, “that’s not fuckin’ funny!”

“Laz!” The pumpkin shouted back. “Laurus Drachmas only wishes he looked this handsome. Now, do me a favor and get my body out of your pantry. You’re about have a change of dreams and I need to clear this boring dream out.”

“Yer not Laz.” Bricu asked. He backed up to the pantry, watching the pumpkin with utter amazement.

“Do I look Proper Northern to you?” it scoffed. “Nether no. The name’s Mervyn, buddy, and I am no stinkin’ Laurus Drachmas.”

“Right. So why are yeh cleanin’ me dream?”

“Champ, get my body and I’ll answer the question.”

Bricu opened the door to the pantry to find himself looking at the chest of worn, but well tended, pair of blue overalls. It was wearing a white shirt, covering what looked like sticks for arms. The shirt was buttoned at the neck, showing off a green bow tie. It hands were covered in thick wool gloves–gloves that matched the bow tie–and it was leaning foward on a finely made corn-bristle push broom.

“Just take it by the hand and guide it here. It won’t bite. It ain’t got no head.” Mervyn said. He was either chuckling or was choking on a string of pumpkin seeds. Bricu couldn’t tell. He was too busy staring a the Scarecrow in the closet to look back at the talking Jack-o-Lantern.

“This doesn’t belong in me kitchen!” He said, his temper getting the best of him.

“Mebbe if you weren’t so friggin’ borin’ I wouldn’t have to hide in your closet, eh?” the Jack-o-lantern snapped back.

Bricu grumbled, but he lead the scarecrow by its hand to its head. When it was standing in front of the table, once again resting on its broom, Mervyn spoke up again.

“One more thing…”

“Och, aye.” Bricu said. He picked up the pumpkin and genty placed it on top of the scarecrow. It felt it fall into place. Once on, Mervyn took to straighting the head out himself.

“That’s it.” Mervy said as he ashed out his cigarette. Bricu couldn’t remember how the cigarette was lit, let alone smoked through.

“Now then you did me a good turn, so I’ll pay you back with an answer. I’m in charge of Dreams…”

“Isn’t that Ysera’s job?” Bricu asked.

“She’s put me as her number one, Sir Smart ass.” Meryvn said. He propped his broom up against the wall of the kitchen.

“Now this dream is nearly over, and I’m here to clean it up for the next one.”

“Nearly over, then why are you here early?” Bricu asked.

“Because,” Mervyn took one thin finger and poked Bricu straight in the chest, “You’re boring. You used to have really fun dreams, smart dreams. SCARY dreams. Real scary. And now here you are, dreaming about pie and Child care?”

Mervyn smiled–an attempt to cover his sarcasm with hints of good humor–but Bricu simply stared. Being chastised for his dreams, while dreaming, was not something he had words for. Mervyn but his arm around Bricu’s shoulders and continued.

“Dreaming about the future is what mortal beings do. But you’re not just dreaming it about a domestic life, you’re actually living a domestic life. And you’re getting the details wrong. Like Naiara. She’s not going to have her mother’s eyes–she’ll have yours. So get away from this boring stuff.”

Mervyn gestured with his other arm. “You need action!”

“You need more sword fights and valiantly holding off the Horde. Or a good con-gone-wrong where you and your crew have to fix it. Those are my second favorite, you know. But what you really need, my friend, is more babes. Where are the friggin’ babes?!”

“Oi” Bircu said. He moved Mervyn’s arm from his shoulder. “If yer in charge then feel free t’change it. I don’t normally get t’chose what the hell I dream! An’while yer at it, take that wee fox outta me dreams. She keeps on showin up an’ bein’ cryptic. Can’t have an action scene with a fox ruinin’ the whole thing.”

Mervyn blinked a few times before speaking up. If he had a human face, Bricu would have called him a liar–but how can you tell if a Jack-o-Lantern is lying? “I can, but, see, bub that’ll be really complex and dreams are here for a reason…”

“Oi, are yeh spinnin’ ballacks here?” Bricu asked pointedly.

Mervyn gave bricu a curt nod. “She’s in a totally different…department. She’s not one of Ysera’s. She’s…”

“She’s not one o’yers? An yer the bloody Number one Dream bloke? Oi, that’s fuckin’ rubbish!” Bricu said.

Mervyn picked up his broom and pushed at Bricu. Where the broom touched the ground, a grey fog started to rise up. “Scoot! Your late for your next dream!” Mervyn started sweeping faster, getting closer and closer to Bricu’s feet. “You’re about to have another great big snore fest of a dream about your kids and your missus. You won’t get a good nightmare for a few weeks…until fox shows up again. The nerve of some of those…”

Mervyn redoubled his sweeping. The grey fog filled the room quickly until all Bricu could see was Mervyn’s head and his glowing eyes.