Dear human, your Halloween pumpkin wants you to know something
Hey there, friend.
Weve simply fulfilled but Im your pumpkin. Maybe you bought be at the grocery store or at the make stand down the block. Maybe you receive me in a patch amongst many other pumpkins. And you chose me. Im really happy about that.
Im not too big. Im heavy. Im round. Im orange. I look so cute on your doorstep or window sill or dining room table surrounded by other decorative gourds.
But something you said, sometime between the cash register and loading up the car, reached me feel very confused. You mentioned that pumpkins are your favorite autumn vegetable.
But Im a fruit. I have always been a fruit. A deep misunderstand fruit.
It really hurts my impressions that you would be so lackadaisical with your food labels. For underneath this hard, orange shell is a soft interior that prays to be noticed and loved for what it is.
Frankly, my fruit status has been apparent for a while now.
I contain seeds. I am sweet.
In a week or two, you might scoop me out and cook my seeds with salt and herbs, leaving my fleshy body, cut in creative shapes, to rot on your doorstep. Pretty hard to think about now that its coming from me, huh?
My point is, dont let the salty goodness of my seeds which, I concur, are delectable buffoon you. I have been, and always will be, a fruit.
I may not look sweet, but underneath this tough exterior is a delicate make imploring to be tart. Or perhaps combined into a cheesecake. Doesnt that audio nice?
Im not telling you how to live your life. Only think of it as food for thought.
Thats simply a little make humor for you there. Im a clever little squash.
Signed, Your pumpkin.
P.S. I have no idea where pumpkin spice received from but it got nothing to do with me. Just stop.