After my parents separated, my brother and I lived with my dad for several years. In my mom's absence, Dad was putting in more time in the kitchen.
After Hallowe'en one year when I was about nine, my dad decided to get resourceful with our pumpkins. He baked them down into mush for the main ingredient for pumpkin pie.
After playing outside one evening, my brother and I came in for dinner to the proud announcement by my dad that we were having homemade pumpkin pie for dessert.
We didn't see him make the pie, but when he pulled it out of the oven, I figured it could probably be the centrefold in Pie Monthly. It looked delicious.
Unfortunately, Dad forgot that pumpkin pie is not made from just pumpkin. We all realized this as we took our first bite of sugarless, spiceless, milkless, eggless, pumpkin-only, pumpkin pie.
It looked like a pie, but it was not a pie. It was gross. We winced, threw it off the porch for the birds, and had neopolitan ice cream instead.
Drawing credit: Bertie Simpson, "Wolf in Sheep's Clothing"