Once upon a midnight eerie, in a town both small and cheery, lived a baker, rather brawny, known by all as “Pumpkin Johnny”. He’d bake pies of pumpkin kind, stirring magic in each grind. But one Halloween night, Johnny vanished in the fright.
From that day, his bakery haunted, filled the air with smells unwanted. Ghouls replaced the pumpkin pies, baked with dread and ghostly cries. Town folks trembled, none dared intrude the bakery, night or noon.
Until came a lad, so brave, into the frightful haunt he waltzed. Guided only by the weak, flickering lights of his Jack-o-Lantern, he baked a pie of pumpkin mix, with a prayer and crucifix.
Then behold! With the first ray of morn, the spookiness was all but torn. Johnny reappeared in sight, blinking once in the bright sunlight. His first words, in gasping wonder, “Boy, that was a major blunder!”.
The ghouls had been a fluke, it unravelled, nothing but a spirit’s chuckle. The real scare, the silent roar, had been Johnny’s tummy, longing for more. Pumpkins it craved, not a ghostly rave. Just remember this tale my lads, even ghosts can’t resist a good pumpkin, my chaps!