Still, I never wanted him to turn up dead. I'm just not that kind of person. Err... Pumpkin. Myth. Whatever.
The Bunny, who went by the improbable name of Benny, and I belonged to a select group of holiday workers. His day was in the spring, mine the autumn, so maybe it was inevitable that we would have conflicting personalities despite our similar jobs of giving things to small children who don't really need them.
Maybe when the investigators came to call, I should have acted more appalled. Or maybe I should have acted more worried that the homicide was part of a bigger picture, that someone had it out for the holiday crowd. As it was, I just sort of stared at them like I couldn't figure out why they were telling me about it. Which I honestly couldn't until we got to the part where they told me not to leave Mythtown and I realized they suspected me.
It was stupid of them to think I could have done it. Even if anyone had ever heard of a murderous pumpkin, I was too obvious a culprit. I would need to be a complete moron to think I could get away with it after that argument we had in front of everyone at Uncle Sam's "I Survived Another Fourth of July!" bash. Or the argument I had. He mostly stood there grinning at me like I was hilarious as I ranted about the fur he was shedding in the pool and the paw prints he'd left in the banana pudding I brought for the potluck.
Everyone knew we weren't friends. But murder? They had the wrong myth!
Turns out it wasn't a myth at all, but we never would have known that if the guy hadn't gone after Santa Claus. Big mistake, taking on the strongest of us like that. Still, it's a good thing he got cocky. If he'd followed a rational plan, he probably would have gone after the Saint Patrick's Day Leprechaun next and I would have been in jail faster than you can say, "It's the Great Pumpkin!" because if there was anyone I hated more than Benny, it was that freak.