|The Three Jacks|
There were once three pumpkins, Harold, Miriam, and Jack.
Harold was plump and grumpy, Miriam was small and sweet, and Jack was perfectly round.
"We must escape this pumpkin field before we get plowed under," said Harold. "Farmer John has picked all the other pumpkins and left us here to rot."
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Miriam. "I don't want to rot. Whatever shall we do?"
"Fear not, Miriam," said Jack. "Harold, like always, is just sad and gloomy. Farmer John is saving us for last because he knows we are the best looking pumpkins for Halloween."
"Best looking for Halloween?" Miriam asked. "What does that mean, Jack?"
"He's not saving us," grumbled Harold. "He's forgotten all about us."
"Halloween is a human holiday where the best pumpkins are chosen for carving," said Jack.
"Carving?" asked Miriam.
"Yes," said Jack. "Faces are carved onto the pumpkins and then placed outside on the doorstep."
"Yeah, they're gonna carve us up into little, tiny pieces, and then bake us in a pie," Harold groaned.
"No," said Jack. "Halloween is a holiday where people can commune with the dead. Where the spirits of loved ones can come back and talk to their friends and family."
"Oh, that sounds scary, Jack," said Miriam. "What if they don't want ghosts coming to their house?"
"We're all gonna die! We're all gonna die," Harold whined.
"That's where we come in," said Jack. "You see, legend has it, that if a pumpkin or turnip has a faced carved on it, and is left out on the porch, the ghosts will pass that house by."
"Just like Farmer John passed us by," grumbled Harold.
"Look!" shouted Miriam. "There are people walking in the field and choosing pumpkins to take home."
An older couple walked over to where the three pumpkins were huddled.
"What about this one, Gladys," said the old man to his wife. "He's a big fat one."
"Why yes, George," she said. "That'll make the perfect pie." And with that said, the old man bent down and picked Harold up off the ground.
"Oh, no! Help me! Help me!," Harold yelled. "I don't want to be a pie, I tell you! Save me!"
"Oh, Jack, what can we do? He's going to be turned into a pie," said Miriam.
"Well, I guess Harold was just too grumpy for anything else," said Jack.
The day wore on and the pumpkin patch all but emptied of people and pumpkins. But no one picked, Jack or Miriam.
Finally a man and his young daughter walked up to where the two pumpkins sat.
"Look, Daddy, here's two nobody has picked yet."
"Well, yes," he said. "This one is perfect, but the other is kind of small."
"I know, Daddy, but so am I," said the little girl. "It's a perfect size for me."
"Why, yes, sure it is," the father said, and then Jack and Miriam were chosen.
The following night was Halloween, and Jack and Miriam were set out on the front steps with Jack-O-Lantern faces carved into them. Jack had triangle shaped eyes and nose, and his mouth was cut into a big old grin with jagged teeth. Miriam had round shaped eyes and a mouth cut into a grin with two buck-teeth. Inside each was placed a lit candle, which made them glow like angels.
"Oh, Jack, you look so funny with that grin," laughed Miriam.
"Well, you look as beautiful as ever," Jack said. "We're the best looking Jack-O-Lanterns on the block."
Just then, from across the street, a little old man brought out an enormous pumpkin carved with the face and body of a gruesome ghost.
"Well, all be," said Jack. "Look, Miriam, it's Harold!"
"Harold! Harold!" cried Miriam. "You're not a pie!"
"Nope. The lady said I was just too old and tough for a pie," Harold laughed. "So here I am."
"Oh, it's so good to all be together again," Miriam said.
Jack smiled and said, "It sure is . . . The Three Jacks."