The Tale of Princess PumkinPat

The pumpkin patch was a wretched place. Pumpkin-Pat hated it. It was covered in dirt and the vines tormented her constantly with their scratchy fingers. She would have given them a good swat, but Pumpkin-Pat had no hands. Pumpkins never do, of course, but Pat dreamed of having them.

She would lay for hours in the dirt, staring into the vast blue sky, imagining herself as a grand princess with long graceful hands- clean hands, covered in gloves that never got dirty. Hands that held a jeweled scepter and ruled her pumpkin kingdom with strength.

Pesky vines would be imprisoned in the dungeon of her castle and only beautiful pumpkins would be allowed to wait on her Royal Roundness. Beauty is all about girth in the pumpkin world, you see. The rounder the better.

The trouble was, Pumpkin-Pat was not as round or as clean as the other pumpkins in the patch. She was plain and ugly and the vines would not let her forget it.

Pumpkin pie, pumpkin pie.
All you're fit for is pumpkin pie.
No one wants a pumpkin
like you

They chanted as they wrapped their tentacled arms around her stem, snickering as big pumpkin tears welled up in her eyes and made mud puddles on her orange face.

Pat despised them, but they were right. She wasn't beautiful. She was just Pat. Plain old Pat. Not beautiful Perlapat like her sister or Cleopat like her cousin, but plain, homely Pumpkin-Pat. How degrading! Maybe it would be better to be made into a pie. People loved pie.

She tried to imagine being a pie, but becoming orange puree wasn't very glamorous and she was afraid it might hurt. She would probably just shrivel on the vine and join the other castaways in the compost heap.

The chuff-chuff, grumble-grumble of a tractor engine rolled through the biting autumn air. They were harvesting today and all her beautiful siblings and cousins were wishing each other well as they ventured off to become centerpieces or tablescapes. Pat barrelled deeper into the dirt, determined not to open her eyes 'til the sound of the tractor faded and she was alone to dream her dreams and rule her kingdom.

The chuff-chuff, grumble-grumble got closer and closer. The workers were shouting and grunting with effort as they sliced the pumpkins from their vines and hoisted them into the trailer. A slice, a lift, freedom from vines, laughter, shouting- the noise was rhythmic and deafening. Pat felt herself being lifted and carried away with it all, but refused to open her eyes and watch the excitement. She just imagined she was one of the beautiful chosen ones being lifted into the trailer.

Chuff-chuff, grumble-grumble, bump, bump. Ouch! She opened her eyes in pain. What was that? She was surrounded completely by other pumpkins with no vines in sight.

"'Scuse me," she said to the voluptuous ochre beauty smooshed up against her, "Where are we?"

"Dahling," the elegant globe said, "we are going to meet our Destiny."

"Where is our destiny?" Pat asked.

"Seriously?" the damsel drawled. "How provincial can you be?"

Pat was embarrassed. She would never be elegant. She just wanted to know where she was. At least there were no vines. She closed her eyes and fell asleep dreaming of crowns and gloves and jeweled shoes.

It was dark when she woke-up. There were no pumpkins on top of her anymore and she was cold. She looked around and saw a big black field with white lines on it. It was a strange looking field. The ground looked very hard and there were lamp posts growing in it. She had never seen a lamp post, but she had heard about them from the old tractor. They cast little puddles of light around them.

"How beautiful they are," she thought. She could hear people's sleepy voices grumbling about how early it was, but she couldn't turn around and look. She just stared at the lamp posts and the black field. The sun rose and cars started pulling into the field, parking between the white lines.

"How odd this all is. Where are the vines and the tractor?" she wondered. "Is this destiny?"

People got out of the cars and walked past her. Some stopped and looked at her.

"Oh look. Pumpkins. We need a pumpkin for the table." They picked her up and looked underneath her, ignoring her altogether. "Oh! Here's a nice big, plump one. Perfect for the centerpiece."

The voices died away and Pat stared at the cars until her eyes hurt. People came and went all day, but no one wanted her. Sometimes they almost picked her, but they always saw another pumpkin in the bin that was cleaner or bigger or more orange. How she missed the pumpkin patch and the blue sky and the quiet air. At least there she could pretend she belonged and was beautiful. Here, there was no pretending.

The sun went up and went down. The day was almost over and the sunlight was dripping out of the sky leaving it darker and darker. Pat was sure she would be thrown away soon. She almost hoped she was. She couldn't bear it any more.

Then a lady walked up. She didn't say anything. She just started picking up pumpkins and looking at them. She had a nice face and seemed kinder than the others who had manhandled Pat all day. She looked at Pat and turned her around examining the big splotch of dirt smeared over her face. She put Pat down and looked at the other pumpkins. Pat sighed and a tears welled up in her eyes. She was tired of destiny.

The lady walked back to Pat and picked her up, brushing off the dust. She smiled.

"Nothing a little wash cloth won't fix," she said carrying Pat inside and paying for her.

Pat was in shock. Somebody wanted her. Somebody thought she was beautiful. She sat on a soft seat inside the lady's car. It was so much better than bouncing in the trailer. She felt like a princess. How could life get any better?

The car stopped and the lady gently carried her inside the house. She got a warm cloth and wiped Pat's face and body. The warm water felt so good. Pat wanted to sing. Then the lady put her up on a table.

A few minutes later, Pat heard a little girl's voice. "Mama, Mama, I saw the ducks and fed them and there were lots of them and..." she chattered on and on 'til her mama interrupted her.

"Baby, come see what Mama got you at the store."

The little blond girl ran up to the table. "A pumpkin, a pumpkin," she squealed in excitement. "Look, Daddy, a pumpkin."

"Here, have Daddy help you get her dressed," the lady said taking out a bag with two beautiful hands wearing gloves, two jeweled shoes, a sparkling crown, and dangling earrings. Pat was speechless. Her dream was coming true.

The man carefully put on the arms, the shoes, the crown, the ears and earrings, two beautiful eyes, a nose and lovely set of red lips. He turned her around for the little girl to see.

"Isn't she beautiful?" the lady said. "Let's call her Princess PumpkinPat, her Royal Roundness."