Guardian of the Gourd
To hell with Queen City of the Rockies, we want our Squashtown!
Well, on October 30, 1864 - the day before Halloween (that’s important), the citizens of Last Chance had a meeting to rename and perchance gentrify their little burg. Maybe the name Last Chance was depressing them? Or maybe it was the dark hours spent mucking in the bottom of a mine shaft? Anywho. Of the 200 hard-scrabbling miner folk living here, seven owners of seven pairs of blistered hands got together and had what would at times be a cantakerous shouting match as Civil War rivalries reared up. Providing comic relief to all the hubbub, some goofy dads in the crowd proposed “Squashtown” and “Pumpkinville” as names for the town (Halloween time, remember). Oh the sublime and transporting humor of a dad joke! I’m sure that pistols were holstered, knives sheathed and cudgels pocketed as the tensions were guffawed away. Unfortunately, the muddle-headed crowd settled on the name Helena. And we now live with weak puns like “What the Helena?” and “Have a Helena Day”.
But … just imagine the parallel universe spawned that day (the Squashaverse™ if you will) where our fair city was named Squashtown. Butternuts and chayotes living in harmony. A gourd in every pot. The amazing punnery and double entendres!!! All while living in a Squasher’s Paradise.
As for the other squash-related name proposed that day - up yours, Pumpkinville!
Collect, collate and conflagrate your praises and curses into that mail that goes by lightning and send off to the Sometimes Honorable Mayor of Squashtown, Mr. Dick Schnitzel - mayor@squashtown.com.
Were you blessed with a jug of Mucker’s Milk? Why you lucky mucker! It’s time to get out of that mucking hole and get your squarsh on like it’s 1864:
Clank cups with your muckers. Cup to table for muckers lost.
“SquashDOWN!”
“Don’t make no sense.”
Jayne of Jaynestown