Hallo! Ich bin mein Glockenspiel. Ich komme aus dem neunten Reich, um euch Frieden und Wohlstand zu bringen. Wünsch dir was! Wünsch es dir zweimal! Hör ein Krähen und mach es dir schön!

Ah, behold! A quaint wooden pumpkin, no larger than a squirrel’s daydream. It hangs by a sneaky length of twine — rustic, possibly stolen from a scarecrow’s belt, and perfect for hanging upon a crooked nail or the branch of a particularly contemplative tree. It sways ever so slightly in the breeze, murmuring secrets of forgotten festivals and the laughter of scarecrows long since retired. A curious charm, indeed — like something a lost soul might carry in their pocket, just in case the forest starts to hum. Useful? Questionable. Whimsical? Deeply.

DO NOT PUT THESE OUTSIDE IT WILL GET GROSS