This is a fictional children's story about Punkin' Chunkin' and I've written the story in the voice of my Great-Niece, Reagan.
"We're going to the Punkin' Chunkin'," said Mama.
Little Reagan Blanche had never seen a pumpkin.
Dada drove up and up and up the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Pumpkins soared, sailed, and somersaulted through the blueberry skies.
Pumpkins rolled with a thunderous roar and splish splashed.
Dada gobbled, gorged, and goooooed pumpkin pie.
An airplane buzzed.
"Let's ride the plane," said Mama.
Watercolors plunk-plopped the trees.
People looked like ants on the ground.
A mechanical bull bar-bucked Dada.
Reagan Blanche fell asleep.
She dreamed of pumpkins zigzagging.
Pumpkins zigzesting.
Pumpkins zip lining the mountains.
