The Oldest Trick in the Book

I sat paralyzed with terror. My hands tingled as if I had been pushing a lawnmower for hours. I could feel the muscles in my throat tighten to a close; you couldn’t fit a frog’s hair between them. Why couldn’t they have done this earlier? Where was my body’s natural instinct to protect itself before, when I was tearing into the red meat of the watermelon, not giving any regard to the mortal danger that was imbedded within.
I slowly sat down what was left of the melon, barely a half inch of soft pink rising above the rind, and walked from the porch to the edge of the chicken coop. My cousin, who delivered to me the warning about the black seeds far too late, followed. I watched a rooster peck the back of a hen’s head, and as I was letting down the latch to compartment where my grandfather had laid straw to give the eggs a nice place to lay, she spoke.

“You know, it ain’t all that bad.”
“What do you mean it ain’t all that bad?”
“Well, it probably ain’t any worse than one of the chickens layin’ an egg.”
“But I don’t wanna lay no egg the size of a dang watermelon!”
“You haven’t drank any water have you?”
“Well yeah!”
“Uh oh. Well, you ain’t ate any bread have you?”
“What’s bread got to do with anything?”
“Well, since you can’t have no dirt in your stomach, the seed sets into the bread and grows there. Have you ate any or what?”

Tears were now streaming single file from the edge of each eye.

“Yeah, I’ve ate some! Yesterday with lunch and with a ‘mater sandwitch this morning!”
“Hey stop cryin’! Alright?”
“I can’t! I don’t want no watermelon in me!”
“Listen, let’s go back up there and if nothing happens in a few minutes you’ll probably be okay. It don’t always work.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, Uncle Dewit eats ‘em all the time.”
“But Uncle Dewit says his stomach is made of iron. And he’s magic anyways!”
“Magic? What are you talking about?”
“Well, I used to have the warts on my fingers and mama took me to see him. Well he got out a tater and cut it in half and rubbed it all over my hands. He done some other stuff with it and said some stuff I didn’t know, then me and mama left. Well, come a few days later they were gone!”
“You lie!”
“I promise!”
“Well come on we gotta get back up there.”

We reclaimed our seats on the porch. I sat with my back to the old church pew, my head level with my father’s knee, watching ants snake toward the bucket of old sweaty rinds. I could feel every movement inside me: blood flowing through veins, the touch of air against the tiny blond hair on my legs, the watermelon expanding in my belly. I watched in awe as they spit the seeds effortlessly out onto the lawn. The sun started touching the tops of the trees and soon enough was fighting to punch through them. I was home free. I had fought off certain death. I knew I must have inherited an iron stomach from Uncle Dewhit, who cousin Luanne stared at with trepidation.