Watermelon: A love story
About 3 weeks ago I bought a personal watermelon. Perhaps you are like me and find the idea of a label for a watermelon, intimating that its for ‘personal use’, amusing? Partially that’s why I bought it. But all too sadly, in this story I am about to tell, it received no use at all and was, in fact, later abandoned.
I came across this adorable watermelon while shopping with my monkeys one day. Hmm, I thought, I like watermelon and so do monkeys so I think we will bring this little guy home.
Vince was pretty excited about it. It was pretty much the perfect size for a 5 year old to carry. And even when we were purchasing it, I heard someone behind me saying “Aw! What an adorable little watermelon!” (No seriously. I couldn’t make this up if I tried. She even clutched at her husband/partner/whatever’s arm while she was saying this)
And so, shopping done, we all rolled out to the parking lot and loaded up the car. My trunk was full, so the watermelon took a place of honor in the passengers side floor, wedged in with some other purchases. I think this was the moment that things, very slowly, went pear-shaped.
It rolled under the seat and I promptly forgot about it.
Until about 3 days later. It rolled out from under the seat. I glanced at it with surprise, it rolled back and I immediately forgot about it until the following morning when we did the exact same thing.
And the following evening, when it rolled out as I parked my car, I literally said out loud “I will be right back for you.” Which I wasn’t. I make crappy promises to whole fruit. I am an asshole.
Fast-forward to day 6, which was when I noticed it again. And then promptly forgot.
Day seven. Repeat.
Day eight. Ditto.
And by this point, I was quite comfortable with the watermelon’s rhythm. We were at one. I was even braking in a gentle manner to avoid bumping it too much. What was wrong with me (I’m sure there is a list somewhere)…. Whatevs. I’m adorable and quirky. Or something.
Day 9 was when people started to mention that perhaps I needed to remove the newest member of my family from my vehicle. Some murmurs of exploding fruit… You know, my normal life.
And this is where it got scary. Because an actual person that I know in real life experienced an exploding watermelon. And I learned this while I was driving home from work with my best friend rocking back and forth violently (I was heading home after all) on my passenger side floorboard.
All of a sudden, best friend became my worst enemy. My ticking time bomb of an enemy. At close proximity. And I freaked the mother-fucking out. (French. Tricky. Sorry.) So much so, I pulled over into a shopping center and patiently, but stressfully, waited for any bystanders to get the fuck away from my car. You know, because it might explode.
And then, when I was as alone as I could have been in the parking lot of a Publix grocery store, I opened my door. My hands shook as I reached over for my best friend, my baby, my own personal watermelon. I delicately lifted it out. And just as delicately, I placed it on the pavement. And then backed quickly away and briskly walked into the grocery store to buy things to make pizza.
When I returned, I admit I hesitantly stepped up to my vehicle. Would my best friend still be there? Did it explode? Did I need to stat wash my car?
Holy. Freaking. Moly. It was gone. And no, it had not rolled away. And no, it was not under the car next to me. It literally was in someones possession. My imagination had a field day. As in a sports day. A super special, crazy, super busy, machine gun firing day. With orangeade. And hotdogs.
Oh watermelon…. How I mourn our loss. We had such rhythm… We were almost one. But hey, that’s cool. You found a new mom. I will miss our relationship for always….