It’s true, they don’t. And what’s a headless horseman without flaming pumpkin bombs? A giant pussy. Of course even with flaming pumpkin bombs, he mainly just seems to pick on underfed educators, so perhaps he should level up to flaming sub-machine guns.

I was going to have our dome-challenged friend singing some song about pumpkin bombs and your mom (it rhymes!), but it just took up too much room. Plus, you can’t go wrong with whistling. Especially as that’s what Ichabod was doing to try and distract himself from the ever-growing sense of dread that he felt as he wandered down that fateful lane. So metal!



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