A Wisconsin farmer named Norm Charles has grown the world’s second heaviest pumpkin, and it weighs almost as much as his ego. The 2,145 pound pumpkin was shown at the Cedarburg Wine and Harvest Festival in Wisconsin. As is tradition, the farmer spent a little time bragging to passersby at the event.

“I am the greatest pumpkin grower in the world! Bow down before me or I shall destroy you!” shouted Charles, standing on a folding chair in his booth. “Fear the wrath of the Pumpkineer! No mercy! No kindness! In place of a president, you will have a Dark Lord, beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Treacherous as the sea! Stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love me and despair!”

Charles was excited because the seeds inside his record breaking pumpkin will likely fetch a good price in auctions. Normal pumpkin seeds cost only a few dollars per pound, but seeds from a record breaking pumpkin could fetch thousands of dollars.

“Bow to my potent seeds, mortal humans! They will crush lives! They will crush feelings! They will crush you all!” shouted Charles. “Don’t you turn your back on me! I want you to look at me when I rule you! I want to see the light leave your eyes! The Green Bay Packers and my moneyshot pumpkin are your only Gods now!”

When asked what makes his pumpkins so big, Charles said lots of watering and daily care was necessary, along with a healthy dose of luck. It’s through this luck - or Divine Fate, as he calls it - that Charles feels he has been chosen to rule all people and creatures of this planet.

Charlene Davis of Oshkosh, WI, who runs a booth near Charles, said she watched him spend four to five hours one morning attempting to fashion a cape out of dried pumpkin guts. She’s friendly with him, but doesn’t think it’s possible for him to rule the planet.

“Hog shit,” said Davis. “Remember when he got drunk and lippy at the tavern and Ken Marsh beat the shit out of him? Laid him out pretty good with half a punch. He was knocked out for hours. We had to roll him into the alleyway out back because he kept pissing himself. Ain’t no giant gourd saved his ass then.”

Competition is fierce in the world of competitive pumpkin growing, where top prizes can reach thousands of dollars. One of the more difficult aspects of small town life is dealing with all the vicious rumors that spread like wildfire. Summer festivals are no exception to this rule. Rival Frank Brown of Solon Springs, WI - who has an 1,800 pound pumpkin entered in the fair - claims Charles’ pumpkins are larger only because he adds “unauthorized ingredients”.

“Norm? Oh hell, his dick’s in those pumpkins on the regular,” said Brown, spitting a wad of chewing tobacco onto the ground, which his dog then rushed over to lick up. “Eastern side of the pumpkin is fine, but Western side has a series of holes that don’t appear to have been made with any tool created by mankind. If I had to wager, I’d bet my farm, my wife and my dog that them is Norm’s pecker holes.”

While holes made by human genitalia would technically still be considered man-made, Dicky Twotone of Menomonee Falls, WI holds a similar theory.

“Whole damn pumpkin smells like my teenage son’s bedsheets,” said Twotone. “Charlene says that all winter long, when people’s wives are as cold as the weather, Norm’s been having folks of a certain temperament line up outside his toolshed and pay 50 cents per man to offload their sticky kin in that pumpkin. Everybody who’s ever worked a farm knows gourds expand when you do that! The poor soul who eats pie made from that twisted beast is gonna have the softest, shiniest hair in town.”

As is tradition, the situation quickly escalated.

“Hey Dicky, you talking lip about my pumpkin?” inquired Charles, the two cases of Keystone Light he consumed causing him to sway gently with the breeze as he walked. “I’ll mess you up, man! You watch your mouth, you dickless son of a bitch!”

“Listen here, pumpkin fooker!” responded Twotone. “Just because your momma churned you out of her b-hole like a soft serve diarrhea cone, it don’t mean any of us gotta eat it. Get your sorry ass back into that booth or they’ll need a dozen Clydesdales to pull my foot outta your crevice!”

“You don’t talk about my crevice!” said Charles.

“Oh, I’ll go crevicing wherever I please! I’ll crevice right in your face!” said Twotone.

“You don’t talk crevice!” said Charles. “We live in a civilized society, you gutless fart queen!”

“I can’t hear you, Norm! Too busy hearing everyone talk about how your pumpkin suuuuuuucks!”

As is tradition, a drunken brawl then ensued that terrorized the county for three full days. It was by all accounts a very normal year for the festival.