That MUST Be Why It's Called "Fall"

It was a wonderfully crisp autumn day, the air thick with anticipation for the upcoming winter and holidays; the trees gleaming like a thousand forsythia bushes dipped in alzarin crimson paint. As is practically the law on such days when you're half of a "couple", we set out for some leaf-peeping/pumpkin-gettin'.
Sean had a farm in mind for the pumpkins--and what a farm it was! Piles and piles of nature's bounty--from pumpkins to apples to various phallic gourds--dotted the landscape. There were cute barnyard animals roaming about, and cute young families towing red wagons full of their Halloween booty. We smiled and set about on our quest. At the center of the autumn landscape was the main attraction--a giant pile of pumpkins soaring above the horizon like some kind of wonderful orange craggy peak. A sign warned away would-be alpine explorers with a simple message: "DO NOT CLIMB ON PUMPKIN PILE".

Now, to Sean's credit, he's never been one to obey the rules foisted on him by society. As a burgeoning anarchist, he chooses instead to make his own rules, basing them on his own sense of what is right and wrong. However, there are a few rules even Sean can't flagrantly disobey--those of "gravity"and "physics".

In silently noting that yes, others were climbing Mt. Pumpkin, Sean apparently failed to note that they were all around the age of 7, and thus much smaller than he. Spying a pumpkin that caught his eye, he began negotiating the hills and valleys of the pile, leaving me to stand guard over the pumpkins we had selected thus far. I stood quietly, taking in the autumn eye-candy that surrounded me; until my little reverie was interrupted by a horrid "CRRR-AAAACK!!!" Some asshole must be too big for the wooden pallets, I mused; and went back to my sight-seeing. I didn't even look up until I heard the unmistakable "Whoa-ooooh" that could only mean one of two things: either someone was singing an eighties new wave tune or Sean was the aforementioned "asshole".

Yup. It was the latter. Sean does everything gracefully, and this was no exception. First, his foot crashed through the wooden pallet. Next, his arms fluttered like a butterfly's in a desperate attempt to stay upright. Finding that to be impossible, he swung out his legs and flipped around in a kind of slow-motion ballet until he at last came to rest on the closest pile of pumpkins. A passerby came rushing over to help, but it was far from the end of the show. The pile of pumpkins refused to hold him, instead thrusting him downward to a lower pumpkin pile. This continued; along with the butterfly arms and leg ballet manuvers, until the lowest level of pumpkindom was reached. Finally, he came to rest in a gentle heap on the moist, brown earth. Pumpkins rained down around him in an avalanche of orange.

I was torn. On one hand, I was concerned. Was he Ok? Was he injured? It had been a perilous fall....
On the other hand, I was laughing uncontrollably. I think I choked out the words "Are you Ok, honey?" before dissolving into more peals of laughter.
He was Ok.
It was the funniest f**cking thing I've ever seen, I swear. I'm laughing just thinking about it.

Here's to you, Sean!

Oh, and strangely enough, all the pumpkins survived. :)!