The gross stuff. Yep, I couldn’t keep him under wraps. And I’m a sucker for his dimples. So he got another pumpkin just for himself.
This is before he got his mitts on it.
His tools for mischief
The Sharpie, knife and spoon for working; and the hatchet for killing.
And the end result is this wonderful addition to the back yard behind some bushes. Umm, I mean right there in the front yard on the sidewalk, scaring little kids as they walk up to our house on Halloween this year.
Cut behind the hatchet is a slot for the gore still inside the pumpkin to be pushed out the side, so the pumpkin is bleeding its brains out from the wound. Clever.
Well, at least it’s not this, right? That’s something, isn’t it?
DO you have a picture of our 2008 pumpkin where I had the drunk pumpkin throwing up into Granuaile’s little potty seat, littered with empty bear bottles (root beer bottles)?