The Theft of a Watermelon
Once on a late August afternoon, a plan began tumbling around in the mind of a boy.Normally this fine upstanding, God fearing lad proposed not an ounce of mischief.
This day would turn out to be his first experience with consequence.
He sat in the shade attempting to avoid the stifling grip of late summer.
His mind began contemplating the sweet goodness of a creek cooled watermelon.
The glorious red flesh of the green striped wonder readily available just over the neighbors fence.
He could taste the very breath of summer in every bite.
Off in the distance the familiar bubbling water of a spring fed creek churned out its beckoning call.
These lascivious thoughts overwhelmed our fine young man.
He cultured a well thought out plan, which hinged on the absence of the farmer next door.
As the hours slowly ticked by this youngster had no idea of the larceny creeping into his heart.
He only saw the outcome his need contrived and the satisfaction of enjoying every morsel.
When this fearless youth heard that engine crank and the shuffling of the family loading themselves into the chariot. His heart soared.
He in all his wisdom had forgotten the weekly Saturday trip to town.
Overwhelming as it was, each crunching sound the tires made backing out the gravel drive, made him nervous.
The time had come for the maddening dash across the green field.
Striking out he found the target of his dreams readily upon him, one slight twist and the prize was under his arm.
In the haste of acquisition our fine young thief failed to look towards the house.
Unaware that the farmer watched his grand caper unfold with a smile of content across his face.
Too late came the sound of the creaking screen door, too late came the reaction hearing the report of the 10ga. shotgun freeing the devil's fire.
Well our fine young man took that load of rock salt dead center of his scampering backside.
Never in all the world has a sound so devastating departed from something so small.
The narrow frame running with that 12 lb. melon tucked tightly under it's arm fell to the ground with a thud.
That sly farmer proud of his aim calmly rested his weapon against the screen and headed to the phone.
As if the embarrassment that ice-cream salt embedded in his skin wasn't enough to finish him off.
The unmistakable laughter of his Grandfather did.
The old man not yet composed scooped the would be melon thief up and carried him to the waiting agony of his Grandmother's doctoring.
With every grain she removed from his tender hide, an increasing enjoyment flowed from his tickled kinsman.
Every last pebble extracted, profoundly impacted the true error of his ways.
The elderly couple hadn't the heart to inflict any other punishment upon the limping lad.............
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