No Eyes and a Frown

No pupils can be found on this festive pumpkin. Perhaps that’s because Betsy, ex-wife to be, is forced to carve the pumpkin every goddamn Hallow’s eve. Does her deadbeat, unemployed, exclusively-watches-Scooby-Doo-reruns, piece of shit spouse help her? No, Paul does not. May as well fashion this orange fucker into a busted autumn scowl he’ll never forget. Betsy’s calling her lawyer today.

The Other Woman’s Initials

The crestfallen carver of this pumpkin had nothing but love for his betrothed, until she slept with their youthful nanny, Meredith Johnson, not once, but 47 times. Why not shame her like she shamed him and carve a giant “MJ” for all the trick or treaters and gossipy parents to see? It’s fall motherfucker!

A Pair of Youthful Tits

Alas, the creator of this pumpkin can hardly remember her wife’s once perky areolas. She’s shallow, and so will use this oversized pumpkin as a canvas to display her dying sexual fantasies. Give her the knife and let her display the unattainable nipples of her past, because this marriage is over.

The Words “My Husband George is a Whore”

George destroyed Phil’s ability to love and to be subtle after he repeatedly plowed the backyard gardener/local Adonis, Ray. George usually plays a porch zombie on Halloween, but not this year kids! This year, George is actually dead. Well, metaphorically. Be quick and grab some candied apples, before Phil breaks down and cries.

A Bottle of Jameson

Nothing says, “Pete’s an alcoholic and tore our family apart,” than carving a bottle of Jameson into a pumpkin. Pete’s in rehab for the ninth time and by golly, Beth should have full custody of Jane and Susan by the time his latest stint concludes. Be careful, if you ding dong ditch the house with this pumpkin, Beth will cut you. Blessings this October!

An Elaborate Etching of a Murder-Suicide

This dilapidated, loveless couple are, you guessed it, two impoverished artists. Despite their insurmountable financial troubles, they did muster up the strength to collaborate on this murderous carving. This low-budget pumpkin might be a poor substitute for the art show they never got to have, but it won’t save their marriage. Ogle it up Halloweiners, this is their life's work!

A Crying Donkey and Indignant Elephant

This couple can’t survive an ideological divide, not in these harsh times. You might think their polarized leanings would lead to raunchy, argumentative sex, but no. Their political debates lead to a singular conclusion…and it's not compromise. Thank God they didn’t have kids! Trick or treat assholes and snowflakes alike!

Something Reminiscent of a Micro-Chode

Well, if you’re going to steal and launder all of my savings because you felt like you could pull it off after binging the first season of Ozark, Brent, don’t be surprised when I broadcast to the neighbors that your genitals also seem to have shrunk from laundering. Yes, I miss the way you made me laugh (akin to the way Robin Williams made Sally Field laugh pre-Doubtfire fiasco), but there’s nothing funny about you turning my savings into dirty drug money. That's not even how money laundering works, Brent! Oh, yeah and this candy ain’t free this year. Pay up you ghouls and goblins!

A Jack-o'-Polyamory-Pamphlets

Nothing says, “we’re leaving each other,” like joining separate sex cults. I suppose you could call this divorce amicable, if you leave out the violent cult inductions, which ultimately taught us both discipline and courage in the face of self-doubt! Anyway, this couple each got 17 new spouses. Funny how life works out! Enjoy the light reading and Boo!

No Design, Just a Knife in the Pumpkin

No need to overcomplicate the utter disgust this couple has for one another. Fuck it! It's the Day of the Dead!

No Pumpkin, Just Fred’s Actual Skull

Skip the divorce, he's already dead. Happy Halloween, Bitch!

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