The Great Pumpkin Story

Last year a pumpkin was carved by a lovely couple. This is how this said pumpkin was carved:
After Halloween was over the remains of this disgusting pumpkin were thrown away. Maybe not all of the remnants were noticeable and were neglected. The ground got hard and cold, the seasons changed and the couple had almost forgotten all about their lovely Halloween season until Summer of 2010 rolled around and they noticed a plant sprouting. The husband soon realized that it was a pumpkin plant. He was so eager to feed and nourish this plant, as this was really the only plant that had ever flourished under their care. The wife was bitter and angry. She stated almost daily as she pulled into her car spot that they did not have the "yard" or soil to home such a large and expanding plant. The neighbors started talking and wondered why they had neglected their yard that they had worked on so hard. The wife might not have heard them talking, but she knew that this was true. Regardless of how dramatic his wife was, the husband stood strong. He would do everything in his power to produce a pumpkin.

The rains came and the sun shined down on their little town. The plant flourished. One day the bitter wife noticed a pumpkin. She was amazed and filled with great love for this pumpkin. She had doubted that fruit would even grow. "Oh ye of little faith", the husband stated, he knew in his heart the fruit would undoubtedly grow. She soon was not as upset when she would open the front door and have to step over the plant. She actually started watering it and telling it what a cute pumpkin it was. Soon another pumpkin followed in the first pumpkins foot steps. The wife and husband now had a pumpkin each. Their family was basically complete. At each passing day they looked forward to the night that they once again can pluck their pumpkins and carry them inside their warm home where they can enjoy the wonderful pleasure of bonding together over carved pumpkins.
The End.

Excuse the pjs.....it was.....ahem...7:00pm