quiet party

Head was buzzy-slow, thinking about party... you said pumpkin party. Party means many round friends together, yes? I wobbled out from the humming fridge gap, roll-scooting across the pale floor tiles. Striped bro followed right behind, tap-tap against my flank with his dry stem. By the pantry sat a shallow woven basket with three bumpy little gourds resting inside, all spotted and quiet. One big tilt, clack-thump! We rolled right over the braided rim into the pile. My side nudged a green gourd; striped bro bumped my ribs, stems clicking like little party noisemakers. We wedged together in a tight circle, touching cold rinds, having the quietest party.