the smuggler’s bible


Metody prowls the street with bag and shovel, looking for jack-o’-lanterns. But (such is the world) fools work hard to resist the efforts of a helpful man.

“Hey. Get off my lawn.”

“Sir, your gourd is abomination.”

“I mean, sort of. I was going for a Freddy versus Jason thing. See, this side is—”

“Today is November.”

The buffoon is silent for a moment, then takes one long step backward.

“The season has turned,” Metody whispers. “Now the unmarred squash alone may be displayed.” He readies his shovel. “Submit, villain, or things become messy. Either way, the work gets done.”