I got there late. The gang was already waiting. The sun had gone down. Once again we waited for The Great Pumpkin.
Sam and Tom told me to set up my folding chair elsewhere. I was bad luck, they claimed. Marsha was doing yoga moves to ease the tension. Ralph had set up his tripod so he could have photographic proof. Bill was brushing up on his French in case the pumpkin spoke only that. Wilma prayed.
I found a spot away from the others and tried to relax. Every year I looked forward to this night. Some doubted its existence. Fools.
Near midnight we heard something rustling in the woods heading towards us. We could see only the top of it, smooth and round in the moonlight. Closer and closer it came. My heart was a freight train.
Yes, I shouted, Oh Mighty Great Pumpkin!
Okay, who brought the coffee?
Damn it. Every year we make the same mistake. We told you ton wear a hat, Phil.
Did I mention Phil Collins was part of our group?
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