Revenge of the Zombie Gourd

Revenge of the Zombie Gourd 2018-10-26T10:14:46-04:00

Beware the revenge of the Zombie Gourd! You know those adorable corpse-green pumpkins for sale around Halloween that remind you of Harry Potter movies? Just say no.

Take it from me, y’all; you can’t trust a green “pumpkin.” How would you even know if it was still fresh? Well, you’ll know soon enough after it rolls around in your back seat on the way home, wedges upside down between the seats, and cracks open to spill it’s nefarious guts all over your upholstery and carpet. Want to know what that might smell like after it roasts for a while in the hot car? I have an answer!

Zombie Gourd, Rotting on my curb a week later! – Photo by Heron Michelle

First it will smell of gangrenous flesh served with kimchi and a splash of fish sauce. It is piquant of rotting meat, acrid and vomitous. When Satan’s pustule bursts, your gorge will rise as you choke out “Dear Gods! What is that stench?!?”

You scrub out the goo, douse the crime scene in Odoban and scrub again. Then, heap in baking soda and soak in white vinegar overnight. By then it will smell of gonorrhea crotch rot–maybe three days post shower.

Now you get desperate and sprinkle dark roast coffee grounds over the carpet just like your boyfriend recommends, which only adds a foul base note to the aromatic dirge. The dark grit of nightmares adds to the earthy, fresh from the cemetery look of the desecrated vehicle that your boyfriend will no longer enter. No really, he will never let you live this one down.

There’s nothing for it. You’ll have to lay down the big bucks and get the interior steam cleaned by professionals. The steam only raises the stench further from the dead, and their chemical air freshener adds flowers to this fetid grave. Your eyes still burn just thinking about it.

The ghost of the zombie gourd will continue to eat your brains every hot day for years to come.  In both olfactory suffering and cash money, this will be the most costly vegetable you’ve ever bought for $6. Don’t ask me how I know.

Choose your gourds wisely, my people! Lest your Halloweens be forever blighted by the necrotic ghost of Halloween’s past!


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