The Watermelon Man

Well, I grew up in a little farm town where people were as nice as could be found except for a few who could only be described as "different". There was one old feller who stuttered real bad except when he cussed and got real mad; Then his articulation was excellent and the words were very clear.

He grew watermelons, his big cash crop, which he zealously guarded into order to stop those midnight visits by people who wanted to sample the goods. He kept a shotgun near to his bed and when he heard a disturbance, it's been said that he would point that gun and pull the trigger in a heartbeat.

The boys next door were an adventurous pair who'd try anything on a dare and I was happy to follow right along. The challenge was more than we could stand, knowing about the watermelon man; the excitement made us put our caution aside.

And I recall a visit of mine, along with the other kids, partners in crime, confirmed just what the rumors had related. Just as we picked the very best one, he burst from the house with his old shotgun shouting "You better leave my watermelons alone"!

His wife came out in her long night gown and tried to calm the farmer down, but he was not of a mind to pay any attention. We crossed the field in a full dead run, awaiting the blast that was sure to come, and, for a fact, we didn't have to wait very long.

We heard the boom and we heard him cuss and the pellets fell all around us, but we didn't stop until we were well out of range. The very next day, at the very same spot, he put up a sign saying, "You might be shot"! and also, that one of the watermelons was poisoned.

We couldn't resist, this one last time, to make a visit and add to the sign a little addendum that simply said: "Now, two are poisoned"! But, in the end, the way it all turned out, he quit growing melons, a shame without a doubt. He grew onions and asparagus which just didn't have the same appearl.

We felt real bad. We felt real sad. We miss the watermelon man.