The Ugly Pumpkin Book

That about sums this one up, but I'll provide a rationale:

The Ugly Pumpkin is a (non) harrowing tale about a squash who thinks its a pumpkin trapped in the body of a squash. Nobody gives two shits about his plight, and he suffers abuse at the hands of an old crab apple tree. Nobody gives much of a shit about that, and you won't either. At least the author gave us a heaping pile to compensate for the apathy of the characters in the book. That's the redeeming factor.

In the end, the ugly pumpkin finds a gathering of multi-colored squash. They like to dress in flamboyant top hats, bake, and groom their face hair into nifty minimalist designs. And just when you think you've figured out the allegory, the fucking squash runs off with a woman. This is not irony. This is bait and switch riddled with offensive stereotypes, almost as if the editor was like, "you know, Horowitz, I like what you're doing here, but you're going to have to do more than simply paint over the assless chaps at the end of the book. People might get offended!"

Horowitz replied, "I don't care what the fascist majority thinks! Vive la Revolution!"

The editor shook his head. "Dave, it's not the conservatives I'm worried about . . . just make the ugly fucker run off with a girl squash at the end, ok? That'll limit the parameters in which interpretation can occur."

See, I told you the pictures sufficed.