Every Pumpkin Has Its Day

And it's judgment day for these decorative gourds

[SCENE: It is the early morning at a fancy farm located 15 minutes outside of a mid-sized city. Dawn is breaking over a pumpkin patch heaving with ripe gourds ready to be picked.]

Getty Images / FamVeld

[One of the largest, most stately pumpkins addresses its compatriots]

THE GOURDFATHER: My friends, our day has come.

In a matter of hours, the gates to this farm will be thrown open. A parade of minivans, Subarus and luxury pickup trucks will stream through, park in the grass fields, and disgorge throngs of people, all of them eager to engage in their Big Fall Day. They will buy apple cider donuts, take hay rides, and wander through a corn maze.

Most importantly, they will pick pumpkins.

Today, we meet our fates.

This is not a time for sadness. No, this is the moment we were raised for—this is our greatest purpose. By late afternoon, each of you will head off in a different direction, ready to fulfill your ultimate destiny.

We will not each take the same path, however. A pumpkin’s story can end in many ways, each of them special in its own way.

In fact, I can accurately predict the outcome for each of you.

GOURDON LIGHTFOOT: What will I be?

THE GOURDFATHER: You will be carved into a traditional Jack O’Lantern. Triangular eyes and nose, three or four square teeth, a small candle placed inside of you. You will not be the most technically demanding specimen, but no one can take fault with such a pumpkin; you will be truly emblematic of the season.

Getty Images / Science Photo Laboratory

GOURDON LIGHTFOOT: Oh, neat!

SQUASH DUHAMEL: What about me?

THE GOURDFATHER: Ahh, yes. You will be taken home by an artist. You will be carved into a photorealistic image of the famous human singer Dolly Parton. It will be very impressive, even if it is not exactly clear what connection Dolly Parton has to Halloween. Perhaps they buy into the internet theory that the woman being addressed in the song “Jolene” is, in fact, the devil. That is not your concern. You will receive a bounty of oohs and aahs and photographs, and you will leave many people wondering how on earth such an image could be carved from gourdflesh.

GOURDON RAMSEY: Ooh, ooh, me next!

THE GOURDFATHER: You will be carved by someone who attended a fancy pumpkin event containing artistic creations such as your compatriot here. He will decide that it cannot be that hard, and that he could do it himself if he just planned it out. He will watch several hours of pumpkin-carving YouTube videos, order some special tools on Amazon, and spend six hours attempting to carve a rendition of his college’s mascot onto you.

He will fail miserably at this task, and will be grumpy for the rest of October.

GOURDON RAMSEY: Oh.

THE GOURDFATHER: You will be discreetly placed on the back porch and eaten by squirrels.

GOURDON RAMSEY: That’s… bleak.

THE GOURDFATHER: I am not here to tell fairy tales. I am here to tell pumpkins their fate.

PUMPKIN PATCH ADAMS: I want to hear mine!

THE GOURDFATHER: [squints, assesses carefully] You will be painted with the logo of an HVAC repair company and placed on their customer service desk. You will remain there until late November, when you will be swapped out for a culturally insensitive Thanksgiving display.

PUMPKIN PATCH ADAMS: I suppose that’s better than being eaten by squirrels.

THE GOURDFATHER: No, you will also be eaten by squirrels, it will just be in November, out by the loading dock.

PUMPKIN PATCH ADAMS: ah

VINE KEATON: These are getting pretty dark. I thought you were trying to inspire us.

THE GOURDFATHER: They’re not all dark. For instance, you will be collected by a special events manager and added to a giant mound of decorative gourds at the entrance to a wedding venue. You will end up in a number of treasured photographs, an eternal reminder of joyous fall days.

VINE KEATON: Wow, that’s great. What’s the catch?

THE GOURDFATHER: No catch. I mean, I suppose you will have to share the spotlight with a number of other pumpkins and squash. Also, some dried corn.

[the pumpkins all groan and boo in unison]

COMMISSIONER GOURDON: DECORATIVE CORN SUCKS

GOURDY HOWE: Those guys are jerks!

SQUASH BROLIN: They’re always bragging about how “corn is in everything these people eat” and “we don’t rot in two weeks” and “pumpkin spice flavor is just cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg and ginger, there’s no pumpkin in it at all”.

THE GOURDFATHER: Settle, settle. None of us like the decorative corn, but putting up with their attitude is a small price to pay to make it to the big show.

SQUASH BROLIN: Well maybe I don’t want to make it to the big show!

THE GOURDFATHER: That’s good, because someone with good intentions and a poor understanding of agricultural taxonomy is going to try to bake a pie out of you. They will not know that commercially canned pumpkin is traditionally made from Dickinson pumpkins, which look nothing like you or the other pumpkins traditionally associated with Halloween. They will push through, however, and bake the pie. It will be bad, but their friends will be too polite to tell them that.

ROB GOURDDRY: lmao owned

THE GOURDFATHER: Don’t get too cocky—you will be smashed one hour from now when a stressed father attempts to carry three large pumpkins back to the car at once for his kids. He will drop you, and then walk away quickly hoping that no one saw.

ROB GOURDDRY: oh

THE GOURDFATHER: People saw.

SQUASH GROBAN: Again, these are more negative than positive.

THE GOURDFATHER: Fear not. You will be fed to a hippopotamus at the local zoo. She will chomp you whole, to the delight of everyone watching. It will get tens of thousands of views on TikTok, and convince at least one family to buy a season pass to the zoo that they will not get the full value out of.

The hippo will enjoy her meal.

VINE GOSLING: I suppose it’s better to go out in a blaze of glory.

THE GOURDFATHER: I’m glad you think so!

VINE GOSLING: Am I also going to be a social-media sensation?

THE GOURDFATHER: No, you will be thrown through the rear windshield of a high school vice principal’s Honda Civic by a boy named Brody.

VINE GOSLING: That’s bad.

THE GOURDFATHER: On the bright side, it will be caught on camera, and finally give them the excuse to expel Brody once and for all.

[a small voice is heard from the edge of the patch]

what about me, sir?

THE GOURDFATHER: Who said that?

Getty Images / Yulia Naumenko

VINY TIM: [speaking in an inexplicably Dickensian accent considering this pumpkin patch is located in an American exurb, but then, what voice would make sense for a pumpkin? You’ve made it too far into this premise to turn back now] ‘tis I, guv’nah, Viny Tim!

THE GOURDFATHER: Ah, well. I’m sorry, son. I don’t know how to tell you this, but not all pumpkins have their day. You’re not big enough to carve, let alone feed a hippopotamus or smash Mr. Carruthers’ windshield. You’re just a little pumpkin, and this field is where you’ll stay.

VINY TIM: [coughs, somehow] It’s alright, I guess.

THE GOURDFATHER: Now, everyone be quiet. I hear the first hayride coming.

[dozens of excited fall revelers descend on the pumpkin patch, eager to select the perfect gourd for their special October purpose. The stock of pumpkins dwindles throughout the day, until only a handful remain near closing time]

A SMALL CHILD: Daddy, look at this cute pumpkin!

HER FATHER: Aw, that’s adorable.

SMALL CHILD: Can we get it?

HER FATHER: Honey, we already have a bunch of pumpkins. I mean, look at this giant one I’ve got in the wagon. There’s not much you can do with one this small.

[the Gourdfather beams smugly from the wagon]

SMALL CHILD: But Daddy, I want to draw a happy face on it for you!

HER FATHER: [smiles, won over] Okay, sweetie. We can get it. I can put it on my desk at school.

SMALL CHILD: Hooray!

THE GOURDFATHER: [slipping into narrator voice] Ah, well there you have it. A happy ending after all, even for Viny Tim. I guess it’s true that every pumpkin does have its—

FATHER, TO CHILD: My AP Physics students are going to love launching this big one in our trebuchet.

THE GOURDFATHER: your what now

—Scott Hines (@actioncookbook)