Iowa Tax Makes Return of Great Pumpkin Unlikely

A recent decision by the state of Iowa to tax pumpkins may spell the end for the fabled Great Pumpkin.

The Great Pumpkin, often characterized as a third-tier holiday figure, has long struggled for legitimacy in an arena dominated by perennial heavyweights Santa Claus and Easter Bunny. His critics say his orange-skinned persona and lack of identifiable facial features prevents him from connecting to his target audience. And, the pundits add, the Great Pumpkin may never be able to overcome the "vegetable stigma" on a holiday celebrated for candy goodness.



Despite these setbacks, the popularity of the Great Pumpkin (known as G.P. by his close circle of friends) continues to increase, baffling even the most dedicated pumpkin enthusiast. So what is driving this jolly gourd?

Sources close to G.P. say that, despite his tendency to rot and attract flies the second week of November, the ability to, quite literally, start "from the ground up" every year allows him to keep a positive outlook.


Says supporter Linus van Pelt, "Every year, it is a new Great Pumpkin. The suspense adds a level of excitement to the holiday. You can just feel it in the air each Halloween."


Van Pelt can be found every year in a local pumpkin patch, waiting for the Great Pumpkin to appear. Asked if he had ever seen the Great Pumpkin, the prematurely balding youth became agitated and asked if this blogger had ever scene a million dollars. After responding in the negative, Van Pelt replied, "You don't have to see something to know that it exists."

When asked if he was aware he just plagiarized a scene from The Santa Clause, a popular movie featuring the Great Pumpkin's chief rival, Van Pelt made a disparaging comment about this blogger's mother and curled into the fetal position, clutching a grungy blue blanket.


For those who have seen the Great Pumpkin the experience has clearly enriched their lives, an astonishing feat considering that no one is quite sure what the Great Pumpkin actually does or how he does it. But could this be the last year for the gourd that could?


It took two hundred years, but the good folks in Iowa's tax department have caught on that no one actually eats pumpkins, instead using the durable rind to carve out hideous visages that nominally look like political figures. It is widely believed that the winner of the Iowa Republican primary is always the candidate with the most carvable pumpkin face. Beginning in September Iowa will revoke the pumpkin's tax-exempt status as a food item when the implied usage is decoration in nature. If residents actually want to eat their pumpkins, they can fill out a form to get a tax refund.

However, this could spell disaster for the Great Pumpkin, who bases his operations just outside of Des Moines. In this year of drought, the market is paying premium prices for pumpkin poundage, and the addition of a sales tax will only inflate the amount the Great Pumpkin will end up paying for himself. The overhead woes do not stop there--the Great Pumpkin relies heavily on merchandising to fund his charities, and his bestselling mini Great Pumpkin action figures (which, conveniently, are remarkably similar to normal pumpkins) will see dramatic reductions in profit margins as a result of this new tax.

It has been a hard year, even for the major players--Mr. Claus, faced with the very real possibility that there won't be a North Pole in a couple years, has been in negotiations with the Russians for land in Siberia. In such a crowded market, will the Great Pumpkin ever again have room to grow?

The Great Pumpkin has junk in his trunk.