This is a guest entry from poolagirl. (note from Nicim - because I BEGGED some of my DLand buddies to save me from my Sad Sack self - and if your dad was in the Army you know the reference). It's a piece that was run in 2004, but it still works. Entries about fruit have a tendency to be timeless.
Sometimes, all you have to do is buy a watermelon to have an adventure of merit.
In another lifetime, I lived across the street from an amazing woman from Ireland. Kathleen was her name, and she was always cooking and doing wonderful things for her family. She was also very frugal and sought out bargains at every opportunity.
One day, Kathleen came over to my house, breathless with excitement.
�Poolagirl! They have huge watermelons on sale at the fruit warehouse for only $2 apiece!�
The words �fruit warehouse� should have been the first clue that this might not be a good idea.
So��off we went to the fruit warehouse. The $2 watermelons were HUGE, and they looked wonderful.
In fact, the watermelons were so big that Kathleen and I decided to buy just one to share.
About 45 minutes later, I put the watermelon (and countless bags of other treasures) on the counter in Kathleen�s kitchen.
�I�ll cut it in half, Poolagirl. I don�t have any Saran wrap, so why don�t you go home and get some to wrap your half?�
So far, this all seemed innocent and void of adventure.
I went home, and as I was wrestling with the Saran wrap to and fro across the kitchen, my phone rang. It was Kathleen. She was screaming!
�Get over here now!�
I dropped what I was doing and dashed across the street. I whipped open her back door and ran into the kitchen. I had never seen anything so weird or amazing in my life!
There, sitting on her kitchen counter, was the watermelon with a large cleaver in its side.
But the watermelon was not quiet or silent. The watermelon was rocking and spinning, and a hissing noise was emanating from place where the blade was inserted.
It would tip over until the blade stopped it, and then it would rock and tip in the other direction.
�Do something, Poolagirl!�
Why me? Where was her husband? Why did I have to deal with the spinning, hissing watermelon? Why do I have to do everything?
So����I reached out and touched handle of the knife. The watermelon spun away from me!
I grabbed a kitchen towel and wrapped it around my hand, reached in, steadied the melon, and removed the knife.
Presto!
Almost instantly, the watermelon began to spray and spew rotten watermelon juice and pulp all over the kitchen! GAAAAAAAAA! It hit me, it hit Kathleen, it hit the ceiling, it hit the walls. Then, almost like magic, it split in half � and rocked and tipped until it finally stopped.
I guess it had fermented. I guess it was like champagne. Loosen the cork and it will explode � stick a knife in its side, and it will vomit all over the walls.
Kathleen was outraged!
�We paid $2 for that melon! I�m taking it back to the store to get another one!�
She actually wanted me to pick it up and carry it out to the car � and drive 10 miles across town � just for another $2 watermelon that would probably do the same thing.
No siree.
I won that argument (for once).
I listen to watermelons now. I get right down next to it and put my ear next to its little heart and lungs. If I hear ANY noise at all, I pass on to the next one.
Dangerous melons.
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