Among the Gourds

Slipping out past the propped screen door, I nudged my rubbery cowl down the worn steps toward a slatted wooden crate. Perched on top were three lumpy, decorative gourds basking in the midday glare. With a squelching wiggle, I hoisted myself up and wedged my flaring base right into the snug gap between a speckled yellow squash and a pale striped pumpkin. I pulled my creases taut, locked my crooked fangs stiff, and tilted my single white eye into a silent carnival pose. A foraging beetle trotted right past my jaw without flinching, completely convinced I was just another harvest ornament. A muffled, raspy chuckle wheezed softly against my ribs.