I must admit that my first thought upon seeing the desecrated pumpkins was that my youngest son was somehow involved. This is the kid whose eyes always lit up with a mischievous glow at the mere mention of the name of the band The Smashing Pumpkins, and I immediately considered him a prime suspect in the crime.
However, several years and several thousand dollars worth of orthodontic services ruled him out as a person with the necessary maxillary central incisors, and I later witnessed the true culprits cavorting around in the vicinity of the defiled gourds.
The only good news is that I do not have to worry about carving these specimens of Cucurbita pepo. Perhaps I can pass them off as some form of avant-garde holiday decoration.