By Timothy T. Tater, Editor & Chief Spud
The Sweet Potato
A Cautionary Tale
It started innocently enough. One day in late August, a barista in Seattle added cinnamon to a latte. By September 1st, the entire Western Hemisphere had fallen.
“We didn’t see it coming,” said Dr. Margaret Chen, Director of the CDC’s newly formed Department of Seasonal Beverage Threats. “One day people were drinking normal coffee. The next, they were demanding we inject nutmeg directly into their veins.”
The transformation was swift and merciless. By mid-September, formerly reasonable adults were wearing scarves in 80-degree weather, claiming they “just felt like fall.” Home Depot reported a 400% increase in decorative hay bale sales, despite hay’s complete lack of practical indoor use.
“My wife started buying throw pillows,” recounted survivor James Morrison, his eyes distant. “Orange ones. With words like ‘BLESSED’ and ‘GATHER’ on them. We already had 47 throw pillows. I asked her what we were gathering for. She just smiled and said ‘autumn’ and bought a wooden sign that said ‘Welcome to our Patch.'”
“We don’t have a patch, Margaret. We live in a condo.”
The skeleton invasion proved particularly devastating. What began as a few tasteful decorations escalated into full skeletal occupation. Skeletons appeared everywhere: emerging from toilets, rowing boats, doing yoga, operating heavy machinery. One skeleton in suburban Ohio was discovered filing taxes.
“The skeletons have achieved more life goals than I have,” admitted one anonymous millennial, surrounded by 16 plastic skeletons she’d posed in a conga line on her lawn.
Meanwhile, the Great Pumpkin Shortage of 2025 sparked international tensions. Farmers couldn’t grow them fast enough to meet demand for doorstep displays that would sit untouched for eight weeks before rotting into biohazardous slime. The UN convened an emergency summit. Nothing was accomplished, but they did serve pumpkin soup, which everyone agreed was “very on-brand.”
Spirit Halloween stores began exhibiting strange temporal properties, materializing in abandoned strip malls before June even ended, existing for exactly 73 days, then vanishing without a trace, leaving only the faint scent of latex masks and broken dreams.
As October 31st approaches, experts warn the worst is yet to come: November 1st, when Christmas decorations will immediately replace Halloween displays in a violent, tinsel-filled coup that respects no treaties and takes no prisoners.
“May God have mercy on our souls,” whispered Dr. Chen, clutching her Pumpkin Spice Cold Foam. “And our credit cards.”
