Pantaloons of Doom and the Great Lumpkin
Every October, the hub and I take the kid to the mountains to pick out a pumpkin. Why we have always felt the need to drive hours (and by hours I mean 21 miles outside Berkeley Springs, WVa.) to get our yearly gourd has never been apparent to me, yet it is a tradition we adhere to. This past Saturday, we made our yearly sojourn and we took Pantaloons of Doom with us.
For the first hour of the trip, ‘Loons of Doom insisted on barking at all of the weird things he saw. And by weird things I mean other cars, people in other cars, stop lights, random cattle…you get the picture. Finally, he calmed down, about an hour and a half into the trip, when we stopped for lunch. I later learned that he’d calmed down because the step daughter had been surreptiously feeding him chicken strips and he’d passed into a food coma.
The hub only got lost trying to find the farmer’s market we go to about 15 times. By the time we actually found the place, I felt conversant enough in the layout of Winchester, VA that I could give a tour and brief city history. We got out, I corralled the dog and walked around the periphery where it was acceptable to have my canine companion while the hub and the kid went to pick out the pumpkin and buy all sorts of sickeningly sweet snacks and some apples.
While wandering, ‘Loons of Doom and I went around back of the building so he could take care of some doggy business. It was there we discovered the pumpkin rejects. These are the pumpkins that are too small, too damaged or too deformed for sale. They’re all marked by a big black magic marker stripe that puts one in mind of a certain biblical story. ‘Loons sniffed a few of them and then barked at a pumpkin that was not only enormous in size, but clearly had elephantitis. There were more lumps on this thing than a toad with warts. It looked more like the gourd equivalent of an asteroid than a pumpkin. I was totally pissed I didn’t have my camera with me to capture this ludicrously lumpy pumpkin.
The strange thing is, I had a burning desire to bring it home. But then, our Home Owner's Association would probably fine us for such a monstrosity.
For the first hour of the trip, ‘Loons of Doom insisted on barking at all of the weird things he saw. And by weird things I mean other cars, people in other cars, stop lights, random cattle…you get the picture. Finally, he calmed down, about an hour and a half into the trip, when we stopped for lunch. I later learned that he’d calmed down because the step daughter had been surreptiously feeding him chicken strips and he’d passed into a food coma.
The hub only got lost trying to find the farmer’s market we go to about 15 times. By the time we actually found the place, I felt conversant enough in the layout of Winchester, VA that I could give a tour and brief city history. We got out, I corralled the dog and walked around the periphery where it was acceptable to have my canine companion while the hub and the kid went to pick out the pumpkin and buy all sorts of sickeningly sweet snacks and some apples.
While wandering, ‘Loons of Doom and I went around back of the building so he could take care of some doggy business. It was there we discovered the pumpkin rejects. These are the pumpkins that are too small, too damaged or too deformed for sale. They’re all marked by a big black magic marker stripe that puts one in mind of a certain biblical story. ‘Loons sniffed a few of them and then barked at a pumpkin that was not only enormous in size, but clearly had elephantitis. There were more lumps on this thing than a toad with warts. It looked more like the gourd equivalent of an asteroid than a pumpkin. I was totally pissed I didn’t have my camera with me to capture this ludicrously lumpy pumpkin.
The strange thing is, I had a burning desire to bring it home. But then, our Home Owner's Association would probably fine us for such a monstrosity.
posted by A.McSholty at 7:38 PM
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