Panda-monium!

Happy Halloween vintage mates πŸŽƒ

Presenting:

This year’s TVTA Halloween pumpkin…

Pumpkin Panda Pink Skater!

Lol 😁

Well, that was fun, and a bit different than what my sketchbook initially suggested… it was supposed to be a bit more, erm, intimidating, but ended up a bit cute (not that I would like to see this thing skating across the floorboards in the middle of the night!).

Pumpkin Panda wasn’t so much a carving this year as a construction piece, with lots of fiddly setting up of slices of pumpkin to make the arms, legs and ears, and then adding the skate parts.

During the build, I saw that one of the pumpkins had started to rot inside … yeuch (note to self not to buy them so early next year)… some of the rotten arm and leg parts are luckily disguised by the skate pads! Then I ran out of white and red paint – she was supposed to be a pink panda, and so I had to change colour scheme to an orange/terracotta (note to self to check art materials next time!) … and then on completion I realised I had no witchy brew to celebrate (note to self to buy more beer) … and then when all was done it took me about an hour and a half to clear up the kitchen in time for dinner… eventually though, I was pleased with this year’s effort (and I got to wear my old Nirvana apron from art session days).

Hope you like Pumpkin Panda Pink Skater πŸŽƒ 🐼

Look out! The editor and pumpkin panda spot nefarious poachers in the middle distance of the TVTA art/kitchen studio and prepare to defend their art!!

Below is a gallery of TVTA’s previous Halloween creations.

Happy Halloween vintage mates! πŸŽƒπŸŽƒπŸŽƒ

Thanks for looking! πŸ™‚

The TVTA 2021 Halloween Pumpkin Teaser!

Take one large size pumpkin, one medium pumpkin, one skateboard, some conkers and a witchy brew…

Not long till Halloween! And TVTA went shopping to pick up some of the parts for this year’s pumpkin carving ritual. Last year’s Med-Hed proved to be a popular Jack-O-Lantern treat…

As for this year, what can TVTA possibly have in store? πŸŽƒπŸŽƒπŸŽƒ

Anyone else have plans to make a pumpkin or do anything cool this Halloween?

Happy Halloween – Pump(kin) Up The Volume!

Happy Halloween, vintage mates!

Usually I make a bit of a party of it on Halloween, but alas not much of a celebration this weekend as I’m working long shifts. So I’m getting my celebration post in early today.

At least I found time to carve a pumpkin πŸ™‚ πŸŽƒπŸŽƒ

Here it is, I call it Med-Hed, a sort of Tim Burton-esque / David Bowie Blackstar mashup. And a kind of post-surgey Jack O’Lantern presented fresh from the lab!


Here are some of my carved pumpkins from previous Halloweens.

Star Wars – Yoda


Star Wars – Ewok, Chief Chirpa


Demon Black Pumpkin with party table friends


A pumpkin parade – mine is top left panel in centre of pic


Med-Hed with art filters


Med-Hed by candlelight

Anyone else carve a pumpkin this year?

Thanks for looking πŸŽƒπŸŽƒ

Keep pump(kin) up the volume!

I leave you with M.A.R.R.S.

50 Shades of Bodice-ripping Halloween Cheese

Here be a Halloween short tale to ever so slightly chill the blood yet warm the cockles of your hearts, me dearies. Late-night fun and frolics in the bedroom? Bodice-ripping yarns and things that go bump in the night? And with generous slices of cheese!

It’s all happening in yet another audacious episode of Six Sentence Stories

And this week’s cue word is…

foundation

 


Madge knew something was terribly wrong that Halloween night when she awoke to the bedroom lights switching on of their own accord, and the Teasmaid kettle (which she and Victor had received as a wedding gift in 1978) started spluttering out a liquid which could only be described as blood, and when her collection of porcelain dolls began spinning their heads and cackling: “Die Mama, die!”, and the flowery patterns of the wallpaper Victor had put up last spring changed into grimacing spiders and slithering snakes … and she half expected the reassuring tones of Victor who was sleeping next to her to say: Go back to sleep, Madge, it’s just a bad dream, but Victor remained asleep, blissfully unaware of the drama playing out in the bedroom.

Perhaps it was all just a horrid dream, Madge supposed – a nightmare brought about no doubt by that generous wedge of Wensleydale cheese she had foolishly indulged in before bedtime, and on Halloween of all nights, and what with her overactive imagination… and so she swiftly fell back to sleep and thought no more of the nightmare.

Moments later she was woken by Victor’s fingers caressing the back of her new black nightie she had purchased in the summer sales, and his heavy and sultry breathing which he reserved for impending amorous moments – usually on anniversaries or Valentine’s Day, but rarely – if ever – on Halloween.

“Mmm, stop that, Victor… it tickles, you saucy devil you,” she purred, and she turned over to meet him, the warm tingles inside her blossoming with the promise of a slow seduction followed by a hot and full-blooded 60% Cotton 40% Polyester nightie-ripping romp… but… oh… my… how quickly Madge’s passion dissolved into horror… for next to her in bed was a man with the face of Victor – yet gaunt and deathly pale, as though he had smothered his features with her foundation; and with crude black lines like scars etched across his sunken cheeks, like he had criss-crossed himself with her eyeliner; and then the vulgar red circles ringed around his eye sockets, like he had smeared himself with her new lipstick (Ripe Red Rosy Applesβ„’, an environmentally friendly brand she had discovered recently on Amazon Prime).

“Victor!” she yelled, “You’ve been possessed by some kind of Voodoo magic, I’m calling an exorcist!” and at which her husband awoke with a start, and the Teasmaid kettle stopped spluttering blood, and the porcelain dolls stopped spinning their heads, and the creepy designs on the wallpaper turned back to pretty flowers, and her husband said: “Victor? Who the Dickens is Victor? I’m Harold for goodness sake. You’d think after forty years of marriage you’d get my name right! Go back to sleep. You’re having a nightmare.”

“Sorry, Harold,” said Madge, “I don’t know what came over me. I knew I shouldn’t have had that slice of Wensleydale before bed on Halloween.”

***


“As writers it is our duty, nay, nay, and thrice nay, our spiritual calling, to explore every literary genre available to us, dammit, even if that means delving into erotic suburban romance.”

 

W.A.E.R. Hobbe-Spaniel,

author of: Rubbish Quotes and Rubbish Invented Genres and Other Such Rubbish Rubbish andΒ Pulling Faces at The Flying Egg which Cried Crocodile Tears in a Thunderstorm in a Japanese Tea Cup in Timbuktu.


Editor’s note: I really wanted to write a rampant stonkingly good bodice-ripping erotic suburban romance sex jamboree, pulsating with pent-up passion and lingerie and blindfolds and riding crops and gliding throbbery notched up to eleven. However, I ended up mostly writing about cheese.

Happy Halloween πŸŽƒπŸŽƒπŸ˜„