Pumpkin and Vine
Something peculiar is growing in Mr. Rey's back yard.“Oh my God Tommy, pull over, pull over!” Maria Casanova squawked, grabbing her husband’s rock-solid shoulder. He slammed on the brakes, making an abrupt right-hand turn up a shabby, weed-filtered gravel driveway. Tommy parked the car under a soaring, lifeless tree where a rotted out birdhouse dangled from a heavy branch. The dented black mailbox stood with the name Rey finger-painted in bold white letters. “I gotta have t...