Updated: 10/29/2020

Storyboard Text

  • Hello. My name is Violeta. I grew up in a pumpkin patch in Connecticut. Growing up, I was the odd one out because I was a purple pumpkin. All of the orange pumpkins were mean to me. At the end of the season I was the last pumpkin to be picked. Everyone went past me. I was lonely. I had no friends.
  • Ha Ha
  • Then an old lady saw me, picked me, and brought me home. She, with her grandkid, carved me into the most handsome jack-o-lantern I ever did see.
  • This is a perfect Jack-O-Lantern in my mind.
  • Then the grandma cut me into slices, and, with her granddaughter, ate me up.
  • Finally they cut me up, baked me, and scooped out my fruit. Then they put me in this strange cake batter that smelled like cinnamon. I remember seeing a Betty Crocker cookbook. She is the best. They put my new liquidy self in a sheet pan. Then put me in the oven. I waited. They then took my rather flat self and rolled me in a towel. As I cooled down I enjoyed the smell of cinnamon. When I was cooled they unrolled me and spread me in cream cheese frosting, and rolled me back up.
  • This will be yummy!
  • kkkkkk
  • ”This is a very good pumpkin roll, even if it is oddly colored.”