Watermelon

Watermelon Thief

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I know it’s been quite awhile since I’ve posted. Sorry about that. Hopefully that will change in the coming school year.

Anyway I’m doing Loren’s CWWC and here is my story for the first challenge. I know it’s kind of silly, but it was fun to write. I used the things I wanted to say but never did prompt.

Here’s the story:

There are some things you really want to say, but really shouldn’t. For example, you probably shouldn’t tell my brother Josh that he is wearing two completely different shoes, because he will sock you. You shouldn’t ask that lady on the bus how soon till the baby is due, because, contrary to most beliefs, she isn’t pregnant. Don’t tell your parents that you stayed up till five o’clock yesterday morning, because they will get mad and ground you.

Actually, don’t tell your parents anything, because if they believe you, you will get in trouble. That’s the way it is for my parents anyway.

“Hey Mom, I’m going to the library to check out a book for my science project about frogs.”

“That’s not done yet? Then you will stay in the house for the entire weekend working on it.”

“What about the frog books?”

“We have some. Use those.”

“Josh ate them.”

“What have I told you about tattling Maria?”

“I wasn’t tattling, I-”

“Enough Maria, go to your room and work on the project.”

“But the frog books…”

“Go!”

Yeah, don’t tell your parents anything, it won’t work out very well.

 

This rule was exactly why I wasn’t telling my parents that I was going out to hunt for watermelons. Wait, wait, before you laugh, I really do have a good reason for hunting the watermelons. We had a school assignment to find ten of a fruit and average the number of seeds. Each of us had a different fruit, I watermelon.

So anyway, I decided to sneak into a watermelon farm and pick ten watermelons, because my Mom would never agree to buying ten of them.

 

The first thing I had to do was get into the watermelon farm. I snuck out of the house at five in the morning, the perfect time as people were still asleep, and it was getting light.

I put socks on, quietly crept down the stairs, unlocked the door, and, hopping on one foot and then the other while I put my shoes on, pulled the door shut.

The watermelon farm was walking distance, and it didn’t take very long to get over there. I looked around, and deciding it was the best way, hopped the fence.

My shoe caught in the fence, so I pulled the other one over, and tried to yank it out. When I finally got it, I tumbled down with a big crash into the watermelon field.

At least finding the watermelon wasn’t a problem.

I picked ten out, and quickly figured out I didn’t have a good way to get them home. I got five into my backpack, and struggled to carry the other five.

I took my jacket off, stuffed them in there, and picked it up by the sleeve. I slung my backpack over one shoulder, and started to climb the fence again.

But my hands were full balancing watermelon, and so climbing the fence was hard. I got one foot up, and finally decided to lower my jacket and backpack over the fence. I got across, picked the stuff up, realized I was being chased, and went running.

And that’s how I fell off of a bridge. Into ten watermelons.

When the woman came up I would have told her I was out on a walk, but I happened to be covered in watermelon, laying in the rinds.

The woman tried to look stern, but she just ended up laughing.

“What am I going to do with you?”

The woman introduced herself as Mrs Brown, owner of the watermelon farm.

She took me back to her house, helped me clean up, and asked what I was doing.

So I poured out the whole story.

After Mrs Brown stopped laughing she forgave me. Then she helped me cut up ten watermelon and count the seeds.

We put the leftover watermelon into the blender, and she blended it up for watermelon popsicles.

I was very surprised she wasn’t mad.

Soon, though I had to go home. She offered me a ride, but I told her I could walk.

I snuck back into the house, and into bed.

They never even noticed.

This, my friends, is why you don’t tell you parents stuff.

Mia