“Imbecile. You sit in that pumpkin patch talking as though they can understand,” Ms. Crabtree remarked.
Urlik loved his pumpkins and cared for them as if they were his own flesh and blood.
“I know you think folks don’t think much of you, but I believe in you,” the boy said to his crop.
“Why do you talk to them as if they can hear you? You’re nothing but a stupid boy,” said the woman.
“Mama says stupid is as stupid does. These gourds are gonna be prize winners,” replied Urlik.
“I doubt they’ll make it through to Autumn without shriveling up,” snapped Ms. Crabtree.
“Don’t you listen to that mean-spirited woman,” said the boy.
She had wasted enough of her time on this idiot. Ms. Crabtree stomped back into her house and slammed the door for good measure.
“Never mind that woman. She’s so twisted with hate that they’ll have to screw her into the ground when she dies,” Urlik said.
As Autumn closed in, Urlik worried his pumpkins wouldn’t reach their potential. Ms. Crabtree’s negative energy was dampening their spirits.
“I’m gonna sing your blues away,” Urlik told his patch.
The next morning, Urlik, ukulele in hand, began singing a variety of love songs to his pumpkins.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” the boy sang.
Ms. Crabtree bolted from her home. “What in God’s name are you doing?” the woman cried.
“Sing’in,” Urlik said.
The woman couldn’t bear it. “I will have them haul you away and lock you in chains,” cried Ms. Crabtree.
“Ain’t no law against sing’in Ms. Crabtree,” the boy replied.
“I will get you, you imbecile. I swear I will get you,” cried the woman as she ran toward the village.
Before long, a whole flock of folks was tromping up the lane toward Urlik’s home.
“There he is singing to his vegetables. Lock him in chains,” cried Ms. Crabtree.
The Mayor’s mouth fell open, and the crowd fell silent.
“They’re OK now, Mayor. All it took was some kind words and a peppy tune,” Urlik said to the villagers.
Ms. Crabtree was silent for a moment, then said, “This can’t be. I was only gone a short time.”
The villagers moved closer to the pumpkins, which now stood as high as a draft horse.
A little girl asked, “Are you magic?”
“I am no wizard. They needed to calm down from Ms. Crabtree’s screeching. After that, they grew to their heart’s content,” replied Urlik.
The Mayor proclaimed the boy the village’s official pumpkin provider.
As for Ms. Crabtree, she slunk back into her house and wasn’t seen out for a fortnight.
On the first day of Autumn, the villagers gather at Urlik’s pumpkin patch and sing songs to ensure a bountiful harvest.
Sometimes even Ms. Crabtree can be seen singing too.
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