I wake to a woman’s scream. I hear a muffled sizzling sound and smell rotting cucurbitus. “What is that?” I cry out through my jack-o’-lantern mouth hole. “Oh, that lady in the other room is getting a Pumpkin Peel. Did you want one of those, too? They’re more money, but they get your skin SO smooth it’s unbelievable.” “No, thank you.”

She carves out the “lid” with its pumpkin seeds dangling in their stringy orange viscous pumpkin matter. Holding the lid by its stem handle, she begins rubbing those pumpkin guts all over my face and neck with brisk circular motions, and I feel sleepy and contented.