Life is hard sometimes. As a melon, I understand this. You grow, you fall, and begin your life as a delectable treat. Sometimes you get eaten, by, say, cows. Or goats. Maybe humans. I was brought into this harsh world on a little farm in Wyoming. I bloomed on a vine on row number two, vine six, on April 8th 2016. Once a week the farmer would walk through the rows, pruning, watering and weeding. He would crouch down and look closely at each of us, muttering, "Yes, a few months now. You're looking quite ripe. Oh! This one's big!" At the time I didn't know why he said these things. I thought he was admiring us, complimenting our beauty! How wrong I was. Six months later I was ripe and ready to begin my adult life of melon-hood, when the farmer began his walk down the rows, stopping here and there, admiring us in our splendor! He stopped at my vine, looked over my siblings and I, and nodded. "Yes, you are ready!" I swelled with pride, he had complimented us for the first time! He walked of, whistling and singing as he went. Later in the day, while I was lounging in the shade of one of the larger leaves I noticed a commotion in the distance. As it got closer I realized it was the farmer! He was pushing a long tub on wheels down the rows. He was also plucking the melons off the vines and throwing them into the tub! This was bad. Very bad. You may not know this, but melons have no legs. We have no means of escape other than rolling. And I have never rolled before. All my life has been spent on the vine, sunbathing and napping. The farmer was getting closer, and I had not yet formulated a plan. I watched as melon after melon was jerked from the vine, I heard their screams as they thunked into the tub. Suddenly, the carnage stopped. The melons went quiet, and the farmer turned around, and pushed the tub back along the row. I was saved! It was a miracle! I was a little shaken, but not hurt. Than I realized it was my time. The vine released its grip, and I tumbled to the ground.
