'Deep in the middle of the woods,' said my mother, 'is the place where the king of the pumpkins lives.'

'But pumpkins live in fields, not in forests,' I said to my mother.

She wouldn't listen to me. 'I'm telling you,' she said, 'the king of the pumpkins lives in the middle of the woods and the woods that he lives in are the woods right next to our house, the woods you can see out of the window over there.' She pointed with her hand to the woods that were, in fact, just outside the window behind our house. 'He doesn't live in a field like the other pumpkins,' continued mother, 'because he's not __ ordinary pumpkin. He's ___ King Pumpkin.'

Adapted from www.theguardian.com/books/short-stories

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