We need to get serious. We have to have a talk. The way things work is this: nothing becomes popular by itself. It begins with one spark. Right now I’m stepping up to be that spark. I’m not the president of the United States (would you vote for me if I ran?), but the president of the pumpkins, and humanity needs to have a talk. The next two weeks will determine the future of humanity and you can do your part by voting for Jolene 2025.

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