The Magic Melon Patch

Once upon a time, in a land that was composed of a large amount of land, there lived an old man named Rusty. He resided in a little hut in the Magical Forest.

Rusty took great pride in his melon patch. Each day, he could be found out in his melon patch, digging around, planting, pruning, dunging, and whatever other activities people do when they grow things.

One night, Rusty was asleep in his bed, dreaming of all sorts of nasty inappropriate things, when a ruckus outside his window woke him with a start.

A ruckus…from the melon patch.

Dang kids!

He arose from his bed, grabbed his shotgun, and trotted out the front door. He heard scurrying of footsteps.

“YOU DANG KIDS!” he yelled, and he blasted his shotgun into the air. In the darkness of the night, he saw three small figures running away. “YOU STAY OUTTA MY MELON PATCH!”

He blasted the shotgun again. The figures hopped his rustic little fence and ran away.

Upon inspection, he noticed that many of his precious melons had large bites taken out of them. All of his work. His hard work. All for nothing.

“Bah!” he cried, and stormed back into his hut.

The next day, he caught the local Magical Forest bus into town, where he got some coffee, a sticky bun, and immediately thereafter attended a business meeting at his job.

“Rusty, have you got those quarterly sales reports?” asked the CEO, Joe Petrowski, seated at the head of a large business-like table.

“Awww rats!” said Rusty. “I forgot!” In the tumult of the melon thievery the night before, he had been so infuriated that he had forgotten to bring his quarterly sales reports.

“Rusty, this is the third time this has happened,” said Joe, disappointed. How he yearned for those quarterly sales reports, but Rusty always forgot them.

“I’m sorry Joe,” replied Rusty. “I’m under a lot of stress lately.”

“That’s no excuse,” said Joe. “This is a business, and as a business, we must have our quarterly sales reports, or something else that has a business-like title in order to conduct business.”

Then Joe smiled.

“I’m sorry Rusty,” he said. “You’ve crossed me for the last time. We’ll have to let you go.” And he smiled again, his pearly white teeth blazing in the sunlight that streamed through the window.

But there was something on his tooth.

A nasty piece of food, Rusty noticed. In the awkward silence that followed, Rusty examined those teeth even closer.

Rusty recognized that nasty piece of food on Joe’s tooth.

It wasn’t any ordinary piece of food.

It was a piece... of melon.

Suddenly, the image flashed back into Rusty’s mind.

The night before. The ruckus. The scurrying figures. Rusty could see it all happening again. He heard the shotgun blast. He watched in futility as the fugitives escaped. He saw the half-eaten melons.

“You!” cried Rusty, pointing his finger at Joe. “YOU TOOK MY MELONS!”

“Wha???” asked Joe. “Whatever are you talking about? What melons?”

“There’s a piece of melon ON YOUR TEETH!” yelled Rusty. He arose from his seat and continued to point his gnarled twisted finger at his boss.

“Oh that!” said Joe, chuckling. “That’s…some apricot marmalade from my toast this morning. Guess I forgot to get it off.” Then he wiped his tooth with his finger.

Then Rusty pulled out his shotgun.

“HE’S GOT A GUN!” yelled one of the other employees, and everyone dived to the floor.

He aimed it at Joe Petrowski.

“Stay outta my melon patch!” said Rusty.

Then he fired.

And Joe Petrowski, CEO, melon thief, and father of three adorable children, was dead.

Rusty went to prison that day. But he went to prison knowing that justice had been served. He went to prison knowing that he had done what was right. He went to prison knowing that nobody would ever steal his melons again.

THE END