We opened the door at 100 Prince Street this morning to find a lovely pumpkin sitting in the vestibule:
Where might this pumpkin have come from, I asked myself. We are lucky to be the recipients of all manner of interesting things left by friends in the vestibule: books, mustard pickles, bicycle seats, Christmas ornaments, sponge toffee. But a late-season pumpkin was a new one.
Then I remembered that our doorbell is all-seeing and all-knowing, and would have record of the pumpkin delivery. And it did:
So it was late nite hooligans!
But kindly hooligans: those of an earlier time, with a meaner bent, would have smashed the pumpkin on the stoop, but these midnight pumpkineers simply left it, intact, for us to turn into pie.
Comments
Isn’t it likely to have been nabbed from a nearby neighbor? Seems like the fun they were having could have been about so easily hiding somebody’s prized pumpkin