Linus waited in the pumpkin patch for the

Linus waited in the pumpkin patch for the Great pumpkin. This year it came and when it saw Linus it

harvested his head from his body, scooped out the mushy interior, carved in a frighteningly devilish grin and placed a lit torch in Linus's fresh skull. The Great Pumpkin laughed

a great rumbly-tumbly laugh. "Ho-HO! Ha-HA! Tiddle-dee-TEE! I have you now, my pretty, and your little beagle, too!" The Great Pumpkin became aware of a chirping in his gourd-ear.

It was Woodstock. The Great Pumpkin's titatus ear got a nice Hendrix reverb going. His great shell vibrated ominously before the explosion of pulpy mass sent his seeds flying

and then a bearded man said to the Great Pumpkin, "But Onan knew that the offspring would not be his. So whenever he went in to his brother's wife he would waste his seed on the

pumpkins and their lustful ways were banned from Zone 9. But he'd also been banned for pumpkin smuggling. It'd bee

a hot day in hell when he admitted to it. Their bright orange plump skin was so tempting, the smell of their fruit so damning, and most of all the stems at the top sent him in an

aphylactic shock. He ate them anyway, hives, diarrhea, and seizures be damned. The juice dribbled down his chin as he consumed all of them, rejoicing in their sweet succulence and

inevitable death. Hell, if it was good for the Borgias, it was good enough for him. He learned the hard way that didn't apply to their diet.