Now, there’s a title I thought I’d never write. It sounds like a song. In fact, you could (if you ran out of anything else to sing on karaoke night). I envision it going somthing like this, so channel up your inner Brenda Lee and belt it out with me:
1. Smashin’ pumpkins at the compost pile
With a couple of other kids.
Our mom told us to stay out of trouble
And so of course we did (right)!
Smashin’ pumpkins by the barn
As we do every year.
Bridge: We always get a sentimental feeling when we think
Of the sounds that they make and the special way they stink!
2. Oh–smashin’ pumpkins at the compost pile
Have a happy holiday
Everyone smashin’ their little hearts out
There ain’t no other way!
This little ditty was occasioned by my literally smashing pumpkins in the back year. There’s no time to write more now, but I’ll relate that adventure in a future Biscuit City entry. And remember to pick up some Biscuit City biscuits in the biscuit-shaped box. And they taste just like real biscuits because they are! Later, taters!