Pumpkin Goo

This year we went to a patch to procure our precious pumpkins. Never having been done before by either of us it was quite the delightful adventure with kettle korn and muddy high heeled boots.
We bought our pumpkins near the beginning of October and carved them approximately 2 weeks prior to Halloween. I don't know if it was our organic patch pumpkins, the warm weather, or the intense daily fog but they were struggling to make it to Halloween.
We had 3 pumpkins. An extremely large pumpkin that laid on its side and had a schooner carved into it. A green tall pumpkin carved to be Frankenstein. And lastly a small perfectly round pumpkin in which I drilled a bunch of holes to create a lantern effect- thank you Pinterest!
A week prior to Halloween the large pumpkin started its stream of goo on our porch. Daily rivers running out of this thing full of rot! It had to go.
A week to go and we are down to two pumpkins. Day before Halloween, the rot stream starts up again, this time from the Frankinpumkin. We had just one day to go so we were going to chance it.
Pumpkins made it! and so did the constant river pouring from them. But being lazy and hosting many a guest we let it be.
My Aunt Cathy arrived Monday evening to our home for the first time ever. I wanted everything to be perfect for her which means the 2 pumpkins that have now collapsed (literally the insides melted away and there was no support for the outer shell) on my front porch must go. Ryan was still at work and I had left early to finish my remaining tasks. I had come up with a plan to use the snow shovel to lift the pumpkins into the compost can as I suspected they would melt into my hands and permanently stain me. I would later be known for the rest of my life as pumpkin hands and could never take up a career in hand modeling.
Plan created, time to execute. I am literally running around the house as I am on a time constraint. So I dart out to the shed, which is locked, to fetch the snow shovel. Due to the time change I am now in a weird twilight and can't see all that well. Ryan has the lock combo memorized but I can't bother him! He's slammed at work. So I try to lift the combo lock up and see the numbers on it. Nothing. I'm flying blind here and my bat sonar isn't strong enough to subtly listen for the clicks of the lock.
I must abandon my efficient plan and think outside of the box. Ryan has been building a garage in the backyard so there must be some scrap wood I can turn into a make shift shovel. I spy a triangular piece of plywood and decide that will do it.
Up front I throw my plywood next to the pumpkin and position my compost garbage can as close as possible. I find a large tree limb that was dislodged and placed in my yard. I use said limb to roll the smaller pumpkin on to the plywood. Majority makes it on but the rest of the pumpkin slimes all over the stick, my shoe, and the porch. I try and use the limb to push the remainder onto the plywood, it just smears it around more. I try to use a spooning technique with the limb and get majority of the rest with a large sploosh. I dump my contents and move on to Frankinpumpkin. He moves on easily and I think this will go off without a hitch. This pumpkin is significantly heavier and I now have goo all over one side of the triangular plywood- the side that I need to grab to distribute the weight evenly. As I don't want to be pumpkin hands freak girl I choose the other side and am now struggling to lift this 4ft plywood with a rotted pumpkin and goo all over it.
I manage to lift the pumpkin, I'm excited, I get cocky, and that's when I start to loose the balance. The pumpkin is shifting and I am losing my secure hold. I start dancing around, armpits pumping out sweat, as I try with failing might to get this pumpkin to the can. But I feel the final shift and watch it roll off my plywood and hit the front porch with a thud. Yelling "NO, NO, NO!!!!" I watch the initial impact take chunks of the pumpkin. Then it rolls to the second level leaving more bits of it's body and rolls to the edge of my walk.
I am now left to pick up the remains of my rotting, molding, gooey Frankinpumpkin. I don't care who I am cleaning for, I refuse to pick up the slick, soupy parts. So I take that hose and spray candles, bits, goo and all into the grass and pray to God no one notices.

When my Aunt Cathy arrived that night she asked if it had rained as the porch was soaked.