[ There are squash upon the table. Several squash. More squash than the two of them could eat, and for a brief, unhappy moment he wonders if this means he's going to be forced into dinner with the neighbors again.

(The auntie won't stop pinching his cheeks. He hates her, and he will cut her fingers off if she keeps it up.)

Except evidently not. His father says they will be carving pumpkins.

Despite having no clue what this could possibly entail, he is thoroughly uninterested, and prefers to hang off the kitchen door jamb and dangle, swinging himself back and forth, instead. ]

This 'Halloween' business sounds weird. Are we sacrificing the pumpkins to some pagan set of gods, to bribe their patron-age and protection for the cold winter months ahead?

[ He pauses in his bored kicking, frowning over at Jason. ]

I don't believe in your pagan gods, if they're dumb enough to think pumpkins are an acceptable gift.

[ What kind of child. ]