Frost on the pumpkin

I couldn’t be more furious. I first spotted one sitting on a doorstep in a quiet Lewiston neighborhood. A fluke, I figured. Some mentally unbalanced person put it there at random. Tomorrow she’ll put a grapefruit on her steps. Maybe a toaster oven a day after that.

But there are more of them. People are posting pumpkin photos on Facebook. Shaw’s has a full display in front of its Lewiston store. A pumpkin here, a pumpkin there, pumpkins, pumpkins everywhere. It ain’t right. Pumpkins belong in October – bright, plump avatars of a new season and of all things Halloween. Pumpkins herald in a new period of darkness and bitter chill. They should stay out of sight until the beaches are closed, the leaves have fallen and the mercury no longer hits 70 on a consistent basis. With pumpkins haunting the scenery, I find it impossible to cling to my perennial delusions that summer will never die. And I think we can all agree that without delusions, I’ve got nothing.

Also, corn stalks

Please refrain from hanging dead produce on your door until September has left the calendar.

Political signs

City leaders are taking on the hefty matter of where politically minded people will be allowed to stick their campaign signs. I’ll be sure to attend the next meeting because I have a solid suggestion on where you can stick them.

Stalwart knight

A local lady took the time to cut a photo of me, clad in kilt and chain mail, out of the newspaper and mail it to me with a nice note. “Where have you been, my stalwart knight?” goes the note. It’s very touching but I remain wary. How much do you want to bet that if I actually showed up at her house wearing a plaid skirt, she’d sic her dog on me and beat me about the head with her purse? Only one way to find out, I guess.

Private I(ntoxicated)

$250 clams and a gallon of gin is being offered as a reward for the return of an heirloom canoe stolen from the Allagash. Make that a gallon of Allen’s Coffee Brandy, my friend, and you’ll have 15,000 sleuths from Lewiston on the case by the end of the day.

Cock-a-doodle dumbass

At the time of this writing, three more roosters have run amok in downtown Lewiston, bringing the total to . . . I don’t know, four, I guess . . . in the past couple weeks. Last time this happened, I made a joke about roosters and Thanksgiving. Then some shrewd reader pointed out that roosters aren’t turkeys and have nothing to do with the November holiday. Mea culpa. I don’t know much at all about barnyard fowls. I generally stay away from them, and have so since the incident.

It’s happening here

So, they’re looking to get rid of that threadbare slogan and come up with something new to promote the Twin Cities. Sure, you can go about it through long, tedious surveys or you could just take my suggestions without question. OK? Suggestion number one: “Lewiston-Auburn: What are YOU looking at?”

Suggestions two through eight are positively filthy so I’ll be back with number nine next week.

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