Happy Fall.

She plunged the knife into the skin, pushing the blade as far as it would go, her hand straining at the resistance she felt from the thick layer of orange flesh. The tip of the knife reached the hollow cavity and she began pulling the knife, back and forth, cutting further into the smooth skin. She continued until she reached her starting point, where she pulled the knife up and placed it on the newspaper beside her. She reached for the hazel, gnarled handle and pulled upwards, each layer of skin and flesh gradually seeming lighter and lighter, ending in viscous strands of orange fibers and teardrop seeds hanging from her specimen.
She reached inside and smiled.
The soggy hairs squished wonderfully beneath her palm and squeezed through her fingers. She pulled out the stringy mass and dropped it in a brown paper bag that sat waiting on the table, clean and empty for the last time. Her hand dived in again, and again, each time pulling out cold clumps of orange meat and dropping it inside the bag. She paused for a moment, only to grab a spoon, before she continued...plummeting its rounded edges towards the crisp tissue, which she began to scrape upwards and continue dumping in the paper bag. She paid particular attention to the very bottom center, where she had carved a shallow, round space...a place to hold a small, cylindrical object.
Finally, after placing the spoon gently on the newspaper-clad table, her laborious job was done. She took a black pen, traced shapes along the rounded, deep orange columns of skin...triangles, half-moon shapes, one large "O" towards the bottom. She put down the pen, stood back, and scrutinized her artwork. Perfect.
She picked up her knife, turned it at an angle, and plunged it once more towards the depths within.