When I got to my parents house today, there was a pumpkin sitting on the stoop. My dad had drawn a face on it with a Sharpie instead of carving it, because he wants to cook it eventually. 

Dad: It looks just like (names one of our relatives)

Mom: Ohhh, Michael, stop!!

Me: Why is there a lone shoe sitting next to it?

Mom: It has poop on it.

Dad: (Forlornly) She’s wants to get poop on my pumpkin…