Dash, Rebel, Harvest

It was a gorgeous sight, that mountain of fragrant squashes. All the warm hues of autumn with the pumpkin spice flavor already grown in. This was the best harvest our village had had in years.

Then they dropped in on us. Like a cloud of produce-loving gnats, the Organic Produce Liberation Squad made a nuisance of our festival: noisemakers, crackling confetti, trite slogans screamed across the field ("Squash the bourgeois!" "Food imprisonment is no delicata matter!"), and dumping ketchup in our pumpkin pudding cups.

But before they could spirit away the crowns of our harvest...