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“Why are we here so early today?” he asked.

“Since it’s the final night of the fest, it’s the biggest event of the season, and we need to decorate our pumpkin sumo wrestling suit.”

“I’m sorry, did you say pumpkin sumo wrestling suit?” Chris repeated.

“Silly me,” Maye tapped her forehead with her palm. “I forget that these types of festivities are not common everywhere else. It’s actually an inflatable ball suit, but we call it sumo wrestling because of the ring. Everyone who wants to participate has to decorate their inflatable ball suit like a pumpkin, and then tonight, the pairs get in the ring for a sumo match.”

“How does someone win?” Chris asked.

“Well, if you get knocked down, you’re out. If you’re held against the ropes for five seconds, you’re out.”

“What if you climb up the ropes?” he asked.

“Oh, that’s encouraged,” Maye said. “I think that’s fifty bonus points, actually…”

“There are points??” Chris sounded stunned.

“Oh yeah,” Maye confirmed. “Points for your suit creativity, points for form and moves in the ring, if you catch a ball you get points—”

“A ball? From where??” he pleaded.

“Oh, well, the crowd can throw foam balls at you while you’re in the ring,” Maye added.

“What?? Maye, you have to be making this up.”

“I guess it does sound weird now that I’m hearing myself explain it out loud.”

They each spent the next hour painting and gluing and taping and fastening accessories on their inflatable ball to transform it into a unique and, in Chris’s case, intimidating-looking pumpkin.

“Well,” Chris said as he scrubbed paint off his hands. “I’ve worked up quite an appetite. How about you?”

It was as if he read Maye’s mind.

“And I don’t want some run-of-the-mill sandwich shop.” Chris continued. “I want something unique to this town.”

Maye smirked mischievously. “I think I know just the place.”

“Welcome to Fitzy’s, would you like a menu?” Blair said, wiping the table.

“Hello…” Chris squinted at her nametag, “Blair. Could you tell us about your specials?”

“Oh,” Maye tried to discreetly shake her head to dissuade Chris from the specials.

“Really?” Blair said as if no one had ever asked her that before. “Um, yeah…we have a fall special, I think.” She searched through her notepad. “Here it is. We have a fall special called the Shot in the Dark. It’s a corned beef sandwich with a flaming Dr. Pepper shot.”

“What is a flaming Dr. Pepper shot?” Chris was intrigued.

“It’s Amaretto topped with a generous layer of 151-proof rum, then we light it on fire, turn off all the lights, and you shoot it back.”

Maye started to decline, but Chris quickly jumped in.

“Yes, we’ll take two!”

“Really?” Blair said. “Okay. Coming right up.”

“This place is wild,” Chris said, reading signage on the walls. “Human dart night? Is that a band or a game?”

“Honestly,” Maye said, “could be both.”