Ivan was a medium-size man with a bald head that pulsed red when he was in the middle of carving pumpkings. Halloween had always been his favorite American holiday, but he didn’t know anything about it. He always wondered why witches flew on brooms or why they used a pumpkin for a coach in Cinderella. He wondered if kids in New England had received rocks instead of cookies when the moment came. He carved pumpkins every year, but this year sales were slow and nobody wanted a pre-carved pumpkin. They were all purchasing the large, uncarved ones. He had to stop carving his pumpkins, because so many people wanted an uncarved pumpkin. Ivan always assumed his carving were the best and the candles that went inside weren’t expensive; they were relatively cheap, a modest dollar and a half. His brain was filled with questions on the day he met a pumpkin friend and a scarecrow, who could fly on crows. He continued carving some large pumpkins when the moon came up, cresent this time of October, and sighed. There had never been a wife or kids. He was obsessed with nothing and wanted nothing, but the pumpkin patch his great, great grandmother had left him when she died at the age of 100. She called it Orange Farms and people came from all around to buy her organic pumpkins. She was the one who told him the pumpkins needed water and a lot of singing to if you wanted them big, otherwise they would grow small, a sure sign of insecurity with the environment, she had said. Ivan did as told and gave them water, and sang George Strait to them. He was remembering his grandmother when a pumpkin started to roll toward him. He had already carved the face. Inside the candle had mysteriously been lit. «How are you, Ivan?» were the words the pumpkin spoke, the mouth barely moving, but Ivan could see the skin trying to flex. Ivan did not answer. He didn’t know how to answer a pumpkin. His grandmother never told him about any talking pumpkins. «Can you sing me a song. I really like it when youi sing about Amarillo,» said the pumpkin, scooting toward him. Ivan was about to say something when someone sat on top of the pumpkin. Ivan look from the feet covered in cornhusks to the the tattered suit his grandmother made out of potatoe sacks, and to the cloth face painted with various colors. «Don’t be scared,» said the scarecrow. «We used to bother your grandmother all the time. Hey, you want to see me ride a pesky, little crow. They’re really fun. Hey, crow, come down here, we’ll give this guy Category:Home › Home • Will higher gasoline prices mean lower sales for new cars? — part 2 • Will higher gasoline prices mean lower sales for new cars? — part 1 • Should the crew of the Sea Shepherd board whaling ships? • Which makes a better pet: A dog or a cat? — part 13 • Grandparents: Can blogging chronicle your genealogy? • Which makes a better pet: A dog or a cat? — part 12 • Are teachers unions the cause of public school problems today? • Which makes a better pet: A dog or a cat? — part 11