Miss Whoop Whoop! and the Jumping Pumpkin

By Craig Carden

The Jumping Pumpkin, one of the most amazing gay clubs ever created, plays host to people who go to dance and party and take part in talent competitions. Part of this mix also contains the rowdy group who make up Pretty Boys Anonymous. Storm Westerfeld and Guy Manning are the owners of this incredible party space and one other. Their other venue is the Ice Castle, which is an hour-and-a-half's drive away in the industrial town of Liberty. With employees and close friends and confidantes, the purple-haired MC, Mad Malcolm, transgendered motor-bike-riding Fat Ellen, and in-the-process- of-transgendering' Bernie-Bernice, they have built both establishments into successful ventures. The money is dancing in.

      One evening, after a successful talent concert, they find they have been robbed, and it happens again and again. What quickly becomes certain is that the robberies are being carried out by one or two people who are brilliant enough to outwit a highly sophisticated security system and keep getting away with it. Identifying the thief or thieves is extremely difficult in venues where, men dress as women, women dress as men, women are desperately trying to become men, and men are trying to become women. Then there are those who might be sixty but look thirty. What, too, about the performers who regularly dress up and move around the Jumping Pumpkin, in particular, in costume? With names like 'Felicity Dodge', 'Big Boy Brad', ''Hooting Helen' and 'Way Big Brenda' and 'Linda Loud and Luscious' they surely have other identities.

      There is also the performer with no name who simply arrives on stage as a giant butterfly. Over at the Ice Castle, there are gamers who inhabit its dungeon and live for hours in a world of virtual reality. What about those who go naked in the lake? How to catch a thief in this world of permutating people is a puzzle within an ever-changing set of enigmas? The best way to start is within the Jumping Pumpkin. There you will meet Storm, Guy, Mad Malcolm, Bernie-Bernice, Fat Ellen and Miss Whoop Whoop! They're more than just a mind game. Start your evening within the pumpkin, mind the purple step as you enter through the purple, glossy lips. The pumpkin's just about to wink. It's game and party time in more ways than one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Green Monkey Publications
• Release date: Dec 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9780620749749

Craig Carden

Craig Carden was born in Zululand, South Africa. He enjoys South Africa's wildlife, flora and beaches. The area in which much of his first novel, 'Easter Beside an Estuary', is set contains one of the world's biggest estuaries. It is about an hour's drive from where the author spent most of his childhood. The estuary is home to one of the largest populations of Nile crcodiles and hippo in Africa. It and the surrounding farmland and bush veld play a powerful role in 'Easter Beside an Estuary'.   Craig Carden is currently working on two novellas. 

Book preview

Miss Whoop Whoop!

and the Jumping Pumpkin

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a novella

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By

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Craig Carden

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Published by

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Green Monkey Publications 2018

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ISBN 978-0-620-74974-9

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All rights reserved

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Copyright is held by the author. Without limitation, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, translation or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

You may not circulate this book in any other binding or cover, and must impose the same conditions on any acquirer.

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What some early reviewers said about ‘Miss Whoop Whoop! and the Jumping Pumpkin’ by Craig Carden.

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Whether you’re a rough old clubber or a soft-hearted twink, you’ll love this one. Hell, I laughed till I cried. If ever a book managed to be over the top, bawdy and warm-hearted all at the same time, it’s this one! Jane Magnum, LGBTQI campaigner of note.

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Lots of hilarious twists, turns and roundabouts to keep me thoroughly engaged. I give a big ‘’Whoop Whoop!’’ to this one. Sebastian Craig (Fat Ellen’s straight cousin.)

At first I nearly had a heart attack when I learnt that ‘Pretty Boys Anonymous’ were included, but now I LOVE the idea. Andy Young, Chairman, Pretty Boys Anonymous.

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Insanely cool. So sickly wicked it’s dope. I’m crazy for this whole mad gang of characters. Sean Madams, dancer, contortionist, illusionist and frequent clubber.

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I hope this unbelievable lot and their antics keep on going. They’re a mind game and more, much more. Shisha Njalo, South African designer of unusual pop-up party spaces and Drag King event organiser.

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I enjoy puzzles, and the ‘goings-on’ in ‘Miss Whoop Whoop! and the Jumping Pumpkin’ took me on a whole mind trip of riddles within a bootylicious conundrum. There were times I could have jumped right in and shaken my all with them. Lily Pink, female impersonator, plus-size model and bad-ass singer.

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Miss Whoop Whoop! and the Jumping Pumpkin

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A pumped and excited Storm stood surveying the crowds from across Twist Street. He grinned with immense pride and satisfaction as the lines of happy, dancing, kissing, hugging people entered the purple mouth of the massive pumpkin. Tonight was the first birthday of ‘The Jumping Pumpkin’, the club of his dreams; the ultimate play space. It had taken ten years of planning and hard work and two years to create, and now it stood, the city’s number one architectural oddity saying it loud and proud for party time and gay pride – the Jumping Pumpkin!

At the top of the pink carpet, right in the middle of the purple mouth with its thick, glossy lips, his young partner, Guy, waved at him. Storm waved back while walking towards his long-term lover. Just at that moment, the left eye of the pumpkin winked. It was programmed to do so every hour on the hour: one ‘o clock – wink, two o’ clock – green-eyed wink. It had just gone ten pm and the neon-light wink had come on time.  

It was one amazingly happy moment for Storm. After years working as an engineer and then a property developer, he had finally got enough together to build a party place so unique it had been featured on the cover pages of architectural and gay magazines as well as too many blog spots and websites to mention. With his chest out and still grinning, the gym-buffed creator of the most extraordinary club of them all ran his fingers through his red-brown hair and strode across Twist Street towards the two great loves of his life: Guy and the Jumping Pumpkin. He recalled what Guy had said to him about all the attention the Jumping Pumpkin received when it first opened, ‘’Gay pride doesn’t get better than this. We’re shouting it out, baby. We’re shouting it out loud and REALLY PROUD.’’

Storm couldn’t have agreed more, and he just knew tonight was going to be one exhilarating time. He laughingly shook hands and waved greetings as he, the king of the gay clubs, bounced up the stairs to join Guy, his slimly built, black-haired prince with intelligent brown eyes. He knew that so much of the success was because of the incredibly creative mind of his young lover, friend and confidante.  

Guy grabbed and kissed him, and then the two of them, like royalty waving to their subjects, waved and blew kisses at the excited crowd. The ‘pumpkiners’, as anyone who was a member called him or herself, were in one major happy-clappy party mood.

In ones, twos and threes, they greeted Guy and Storm as they past the two men and entered the cavernous foyer of the pumpkin.

‘’Sweetie’’, ‘’Darling’’, ‘’Baby’’ and ‘’Love you, too’’ filled the night air beneath countless neon lights. One thin man wearing round, blue-tinted glasses, and with the tattoo of a dragon snaking down his left arm, insisted on giving Storm a hug. Storm had trouble getting him to let go after thanking him for his congratulations. The little man had long, slim fingers and murmured something like, ‘’I know I’m going to enjoy the party,’’ before finally moving off.  Someone else came and hugged Guy and there were more, ‘’Well done, Sweeties’’, and ‘’Love you both’’ before they were able to make any real progress. All around them, camera lights went off as one selfie after another was taken. Facebook, Instagram, and the rest were going to be filled with tonight’s party.

‘’Playtime,’’ said Guy, as he took Storm’s hand and they walked from the top of the purple mouth and into the foyer. All the while they laughed, kissed and shook hands.

Balloons and streamers hung from the ceiling, moving gently in the air-conditioning as tonight’s revellers milled in the grand foyer or entered the various venues of the Jumping Pumpkin: the lazer-lit dance floor with its wrap-around bar and small, intimate lounges that led off it, the theatre on the first floor and the conference rooms on either side of it. Guy knew the monthly meeting of ‘Pretty Boys Anonymous’ was about to start. It was formed about three years ago by those who felt too pretty to cope with life; who believed that their beautiful looks were an impediment to finding true relationships. As one blond with features that were finely chiselled, and eyes that were neatly tucked, once said, ‘’Do they love us for our looks or for what we really are inside?’’

It had always cracked him and Guy up as there was hardly a member of ‘Pretty Boys Anonymous’ who was under sixty and the ‘pretty looks’ owed a lot more to too much money, insecurity and the best plastic and cosmetic surgeons that could be bought.

Storm and Guy were heading for the theatre, for what they always thought was the best entertainment in town: an hour and a half of those giving it their all on stage, some guys as themselves, others in drag, and other characters in costumes of various sorts as they performed to become one of the top three of the evening. Like the ‘Pretty Boys Anonymous’ meeting, this contest of talent, much talent, trying to be talented, and no talent at all, was a monthly event that always saw the auditorium filled to capacity.  A pale girl in dungarees and a red cap emblazoned with ‘Everything Sucks’ nodded at them as they went past. Storm smiled at her, but was too busy talking with Guy about the competition to take much notice of her, though he did give her a quick glance. She was carrying a tray of miniature pumpkins and pumpkin brooches they sold at the souvenir counter near the ticket office. She was either new or a temp as Storm didn’t recognise her as one of the regular staff. Guy and Storm took a narrow flight of stairs just outside the auditorium and into the lighting box. Twenty-something Francis Stewart, sharp-eyed and nimble-fingered, looked up at them from beneath the blue, peaked cap he always wore. He said it helped keep the glare down.

‘’I’m ready to go,’’ he said, as he gave them a thumbs-up. The ‘I’m Your Joy Boy’ written across the cap’s peak in yellow always cracked Storm up.

‘’So long as you’re not Guy’s, I’m happy,’’ he’d said to Francis, the first time he’d seen it.

‘’Guy’s too full of garbage,’’ Francis had said. ‘’He needs a firm hand from someone like you. Admit you spank him, and that you both enjoy that little activity.’’

Storm had