I shut up and decided to believe her, like you do when you’re a kid. Firstly I knew that it wasn’t worth arguing with my mother. She always won. Secondly, when you’re a kid, you always believe what grown-ups tell you, no matter how stupid it is. Like Santa Claus and stuff like that. Kids always believe it, even though they know it’s stupid.
Still, I decided to go and find the King of the Pumpkins, partly because I was bored, partly because I was curious, and also – of course – because I wanted to know if my mother really was talking nonsense or not.
We walked on into the forest. The trees got taller and taller and taller. The path got narrower and narrower and narrower.
“What does he do, then, this King of the Pumpkins?” asked Mog.
“I don’t know really” I said. “I guess he just kind of is head pumpkin, boss pumpkin, he decides on pumpkin rules and pumpkin laws, and punishes people who break them.”
“Oh, I see” said Mog. He was quiet for a bit, then said,
“What kind of things are pumpkin rules then?”
“Erm, how big you can grow. What colour you have to be. Stuff like that.”
“You’re making this up, aren’t you?” asked Mog.
“Yeah,” I said.