Tuesday, June 30, 2020

Watermelon, watermelon

Why we don’t fear the ’rona: a tale that is tall but true

The story you are about to read is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent, the iniquitous, and the indifferent. In fact, there are no names.

Picture a family, a rural Southern family. They surround the table and cut in half a large red meat watermelon. There is no watermelon distancing. No heretical slicing. No tedious cubing. Just two halves inviting a whole family. Needed, forks. Optional, salt. All consume together, sensibly spitting the seeds back into the remaining rind, so that the soon scrapping to the stock will be simple, short and sweet. They are not finished yet. Cut a V in the top edge of the rind and drink the juice. Waste not, want not.

Who will testify?

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