On the occasion of this annual festival of all that is gory, dead, undead and disgusting, I bring you this thing of beauty.

It’s a positively pumpkin sky. Which I’m convinced the heavens gifted me with, after seeing my aversion to the whole “holiday” yesterday.

Yes, you read that right. God reads my blog.

Well at any rate, tonight was Trick-or-Treating, and we did the neighborhood laps, extorting candy from the neighbors.

This particular neighbor happens to be my mother, so the extortion is entirely justified. Grandmothers, after all, are entirely set up to ply their grandchildren with sweets they’re not supposed to have.

It’s quite a sociable neighborhood, is it not? With friendly signs telling it like it is. I chose not take offense.

Other houses sported carved pumpkins in varying states of decay. This one looked pretty much freshly killed.

Where is my carved pumpkin you might ask? Still in its pristine state, I answer. I’m still not over the year I sweated and slaved to carve this great enormous thick-walled bastard the likes of which I’d never seen. You could have gotten 12 or 15 pies out of that thing. I traced a simple triangle-eyes, circle nose, gap-tooth mouth upon its lumpy countenance — and 45 minutes later I had like an eye and a half out. It was unendurable. I haven’t carved a pumpkin since, though I’m sure if I mustered up the energy while trolling down at the old pumpkin patch, I could discern one that had a little more scope for carving.

But I doubt I will.

I just say, now that I prefer the harvest decorating style of pumpkin and dare anyone to make me carve it. Eviscerate — maybe.

Let me be clear, though — Halloween, in my eyes, is for the small fry, and this particular tater tot had a marvelous time. “This is the BEST HALLOWEEN!” he kept squealing, the whole way home after a good hour or so of neighbor-extortion. “I remembered to say thank you!” he also was wont to report.

For that, it was worth just a little death and dismemberment.