The last week or so, I’ve been feeling frustrated and angry (and hence, depressed) about people and politics (and bad television adaptations and Big Tech companies), but the numerologist in me finds a date like 4-4-24 hard to resist. Two fours in twenty-four; how can I not post something?
Because I’d rather curl up on the couch and read until I get over myself, this will be a short one (famous last words, I know).
In fact, it’s a (very) short story I wrote back in 2008.
Here’s a blast from the past, a re-post (of a re-post) of a post I wrote many years ago on another platform. (Long, long ago on a blog far, far away.) Creative writing isn’t really my thing, but I don’t hate how this turned out. I originally posted it here in 2011, and re-cycled it in 2012, 2013, and 2014. I meant to do it every year but forgot. Since it’s been a while, I thought I’d give it another go.
The original writing exercise was to write a short piece from the point of view of a pumpkin. The exercise was given to us just before Halloween. (Same guy who gave us an exercise to write a piece from the point of view of our car.)
Most writers took the tack that pumpkins suffered horribly at this time of year. Naturally, I took a different tack, and so I give you…
Gourdians are an earthy and generally shameless lot.
It was originally posted here in 2011. It was technically a re-post — I copied the text and photos from my 2008 article in an older social media site that’s since gone to seed. (First rule of Older Social Media Sites: No one talks about Older Social Media Sites.) This one is only interesting if you want to see the first appearance.
I re-posted it a year later, in 2012. Again I copied the text — it was a re-post, not a re-blog. As a bonus, I added some new pictures and an introduction that explains the piece. This is a good one to read if you only read one.
The following year, in 2013, I re-blogged the re-post. Combination of curiosity and laziness. I didn’t love the results — re-blogs edit like comments, not posts. There is some new content there, but you have to also read the re-blogged article. Still, it’s the recommended course of action.
So go read this one. Happy Kiss A Gourdian Day!!
See ya next month!
Ah, it’s that time of year again, so here again is unvarnished truth about our yellow-orange friends and their lifestyle.
Sad personal fact: I’m not a fan of most vegetables. At the very bottom of that list are the squashes, including my Gourdian friend, the Pumpkin. Not a fan of cooked fruit, so pie is off my menu and never more so than “squash pie.” Revolting!!
Speaking of revolting, a good friend loves this time of year, because all the microbrewery pumpkin ales come out. Ewwww…. “squash beer!”
Halloween candy on the other hand….. 🙂
Today you get a re-post of a post from last year at this time. And it was a re-post then, as well. It’s piece I wrote several years ago for a writing exercise in another venue. I thought it turned out pretty well, and I still like it after so many years, so I thought it was worth sharing again.
The original writing exercise (and it was just an exercise; there were no winners or judges) was to write a short piece from the point of view of a pumpkin. The exercise was given to us around this time—fall—just before Halloween. (It was the same guy who gave us an exercise to write a piece from the point of view of our car!)
Most writers took the tack that pumpkins suffered horribly at this time of year. Naturally, I took a different tack, and so I give you…
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Today you get a re-post of a post from last year at this time. And it was a re-post then, as well. It’s piece I wrote several years ago for a writing exercise in another venue. I thought it turned out pretty well, and I still like it after so many years, so I thought it was worth sharing again.
The original writing exercise (and it was just an exercise; there were no winners or judges) was to write a short piece from the point of view of a pumpkin. The exercise was given to us around this time—fall—just before Halloween. (It was the same guy who gave us an exercise to write a piece from the point of view of our car!)
Most writers took the tack that pumpkins suffered horribly at this time of year. Naturally, I took a different tack, and so I give you…
Gourdians are an earthy and generally shameless lot.
I’ve been absorbing (Gourdians don’t read, we absorb), with great interest, this recent bipedal hand wringing over the perceived violent and disgusting end that befalls some Gourdians. “Woe the lot of the poor Pumpkin Person,” they wail, “How awful to suffer the carving knife!” Well, I want to set the record straight; you couldn’t be more wrong. Here’s the deal.
The highest honor that can befall a Gourdian is to enter the proud ranks of The Jack. Few are chosen, but they are the finest of our race. The most unfortunate of Gourdians have only the ignoble future of rotting in cold, open fields: forgotten, ignored, made as mere mulch.
Those of us with more mathematical bent can enter the Brotherhood of Pi; and these are many, some canned, some fresh. Consumption by bipeds is a glorious end; certainly preferable to consumption by quads (consumption by hexes, or worse, is almost as bad as rotting). Certain of our citizens belong to other consumption sects: the Breads, the Cakes or the Cookies. Truly, any fodder status at least fulfills some useful station in life.
But to become a Jack is the ultimate goal of any Gourdian. Those few who make the grade and are selected go on to become the revered of our nation. Each selected by a biped who stooped down to claim one of us for their own. Each transformed into a unique magic creature to guard the bipedal demesnes. It is the highest calling of any Gourdian.
Gourdians Gather!
I’d also like to say a few words about, so called, Pumpkin Porn.
Here, too, the bipedal view may miss the mark when it comes to Gourdians. Remember that we’re born under open skies and live our lives naked under those same skies. For us, when you’re talking about the birds and bees, this is literally the case.
And if there’s one thing you can say about Gourdians, we’re an earthy species. We have no real concept of personal space or privacy; there’s just too many of us sucking on one vine (if you catch my drift).
So remember, for good luck, Carve a Jack! And kiss a Gourdian!
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