Stealing Credit for Confusing People with Watermelons is a Crime Worthy of Death

In more recent news, math textbooks are suddenly more accurate.

-Me, five seconds after leaving Costco with all their watermelons while rocking a pair of sunglasses I bought at Dollar Tree because I was broke from buying so many watermelons.

It’s a sacrifice. One could say, I’m a her—

“Are you internally monologuing about being a hero for buying a ton of watermelons and leaving them on random people’s doors again?” Kalie, my best friend, asked me as she skipped out in front of my shopping cart to catch a falling melon.

Man, this girl had the reflexes of a mountain lion and the legs of a flamingo that could go on for da—

“Don’t describe me in your head with animal comparisons.”

Dammit, Kalie, are  you reading my mind?

“And stop thinking about the cashier chick. She wasn’t interested, just paid to be friendly.”

Nope, she’s not.

“I wasn’t thinking about her,” I said.

“Oh. Well, how many guesses did I get right?”

“Two out of three.”

Kalie smirked at her results. “I’m getting better.” She pulled out a bag of watermelon flavored lollipops that were buried in the other melons. They were the only non-watermelon fruit thing we bought. But of course, we kept up with the theme.

She stuck on in her mouth. “Or you’re getting more predictable.”

I loaded the watermelons into the trunk of my brother’s car I was borrowing without him realizing, then slid in the driver’s seat. Kalie and her lollipops took shotgun. She handed me a lollipop, and I handed her another pair of cheap sunglasses. Together, we looked totally rad chewin’ on those sticks and wearing shades as we rode off away from Costco and into the sunset.

***

Of course, Bradley, my dumb brother that actually decided to go to college, had to be home and stormed out of our parents’ house when he saw us pull up.

“What the hell, Dylan? You stole my car. I had to take the bus to work.”

“Awe, you poor, spoiled, favorite child. And don’t call it ‘your’ like Mom and Dad didn’t buy it for you,” I mocked.

Bradley gritted his teeth. “It was a going-to-college gift—which makes it mine. You would know if you actually went to college instead of your bum job.”

“People who could pass for gentlemen in extremely dim light , please. Can’t we just learn to respect each other’s life choices.”

I looked at Bradley. Bradley looked at me. And we both knew, with a mutual understanding in our hearts, in our souls, the answer. So, in sync, we shouted, “No!”

And Bradley stormed inside and I did nothing because there was only one house to storm into. Instead, I started the engine again.

“Wow, what are you doing? We just got here,” Kalie asked.

“It’s fine. We can just make tonight’s run early.”

“It’s still light out, Dylan. We always do this under the cover of darkness. Someone could see us.”

“So? It’s not illegal.”

“But the mystery of it would be over. The beauty of randomly leaving watermelons on strangers’ doorsteps is that they don’t know who you are and that thought will follow them until they die. It gives me a sense of importance.”

“It’ll be fine, okay?”

Kalie snorted. “I mean, it won’t. But okay.”

***

A little after one in the morning, Kalie rolled up to my  parents’ house with me in the backseat, fast asleep and cuddling our last watermelon. According to Kalie the next morning, that watermelon was supposed to wind up on the Sanders’ front porch, but we were just ‘so cute’ together that she ‘couldn't bear to keep us apart’. Especially since we were ‘the Romeo and Juliet of our time’.

Sometimes, I hate that girl.

Especially since she took pictures and changed my Instagram profile to it.

I didn’t notice for three days. Say what  you would about that being evil, but it was also plain brilliant.

Anyway, back to the main story.

“Hey, Dylan, wake up.” She cooed, waited five seconds, got impatient, then threw her purses at me.

“Ow! I’m up, I’m up.”

“Good,  we’re at your house. Hurry up and take your girlfriend inside.” Kalie yawned. “It’s late. I’m gonna stay the night.”

“Alright, but you gotta help me blow up the air mattress. Remember to pace yourself or you’ll get lightheaded.”

“You know  there’s air pumps for that, right?”

I did not.

Kalie cackled. “Yeah okay, let’s just go inside.”

Trying to cover from my lack of unnecessarily knowledge, I reminded her, “What’s really important is that everything went a-okay with tonight’s reverse watermelon heist. No one saw our faces.”

Kalie shrugged. “I guess you’re right. In a way.”

“That’s good enough for me!”

***

And it would have been good enough for a while, until I woke up the next morning to the worst-case social media alert.

Apparently, someone had seen us yesterday—er, at least they saw,  and took a picture of, Bradley’s car. Now, all kinds of crazy conspiracies were floating around social media like how…

“I’m the Reverse-Watermelon-Bandit?” Bradley called out from the kitchen early that morning.

I groaned and flopped back into bed. This wasn’t good. But I had to see the drama. I rolled out, and onto the floor, then the kitchen.

Kalie walked up to the kitchen, drowsy and scratching her head. “What’s all this?”

Bradley shoved his phone in her face just way to close. In reaction, Kalie bent her neck backward almost at a ninety degree angle. Ouch. Pretty sure she didn’t learn that in gymnastics.

“Everyone thinks I’m the person who leaves watermelons on randmow doorsteps because they saw my car at the scene. I’m famous! Look, everyone’s following me and liking my posts on Insta. They like what  I did is hilarious.” He held his phone to his chest. “This is amazing.”

“Wow, look at you,” I snided. “Getting friends for the first time by stealing credit for something you didn’t do.”

Bradley glared at me. “You’re just jealous.”

“No, I’m pissed you’re taking credit for my work.”

Bradley scoffed. “Whatever.”

Before we could bicker anymore, his phone rang. “Ooh,  it’s Sasha Sundays—” The most popular, and hottest, TV news reporter. She’s the only person on Channel Seven that doesn’t instantly put me to sleep which is a huge compliment. “—Better see what she wants.” With a sly grin, he answered the phone and walked away while obviously saying, “Hello? Oh, Sasha, it’s you. No, Sasha, you’re wrong. It’s my pleasure to meet you.” He laughed. “Oh Sasha.”

Before I could jump and strangle Bradley, Kalie intervened and stepped into my path. “Dylan, before you start plotting a murder, why don’t you try and use your words. When Bradley gets off the phone, what do you want to say to him?”

“‘You’re dead.’”

Kalie shrugged. “Okay, that one’s on me. I wasn’t specific enough.”

As Kalie wracked her brain for a new way to phrase it, Bradley strolled back into the kitchen. “Guess who has an interview with Sasha Sundays in an hour? Me.”

I sidestepped towards the kitchen drawer with knives. Kalie eyed me with a frown. “Really…” I reached for the drawer’s knob. “That’s so interesting…”

Kalie slammed the drawer shut with her butt and leapt onto the counter. She sat on it in such a way that her legs blocked me from opening it again. Touche, Kalie. You win this round. “That is interesting. Why don’t you go get ready for that or something.”

With a cheesy, little kid grin, Bradley scurried off to his room.

Kalie glared at me. “No murder. I mean. Blood takes too long to clean up and I don’t feel like being integrated by the police again today. I’d rather go swimming in the lake.”

“I could always drown him. It’d be much cleaner.”

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

“Fine.”

“Good, I’m gonna head home now. Don’t do anything.” She pointed at her eyes then mine. “I mean it.”

***

An hour later, Bradley was caked with make-up and really for his interview in our backyard. Meanwhile, I was holding a box of bees. Because this is how brothers lovingly support brothers—in case Kalie asks you.

“Hey Dylan!” Kalie called out as she sneaked into my parents’ house while wearing a new bikini, fresh insecurity, and a packed tote bag. “Surprise, I’m taking you to the lake to get your mind off this huge—and you have a box full of weasels.”

I snapped my fingers. “Weasels. That would have been so much better. Bradley has a fur allergy.”

“What’s in the box then?”

“Bees.”

With a disappointed sign, Kalie said, “No man. Just no.”

“He’s taking credit for my amazing idea, Kalie. I can’t let him get away with it.”

“Our idea, Dylan. Ours. I was a part of it just as much as you were. And I’m upset that he’s taking the credit too.” She kicked the ground. “And that he ruined the mystery of everything. But goddammit, this isn’t how you’re supposed to handle something like this.”

I lowered the bees. “You’ve changed, Kalie. You’ve changed.”

“Being forced to lie under oath to keep your scrawny ass out of prison does that.”

“I never would have survived!”

“I know. Speaking of which, you owe me. Now, give me the bees.”

I groaned, then handed them over.

“Thank you. I have a much better use for these—but that’s for another day. Now…” She pulled a huge water balloon the size of a small basket. “Are we going to get revenge on Bradley or not.”

“But I thought—”

“It’s less messy and wiped free of fingerprints. So this I’m fine with. I’ve changed, but not that much.” She offered me the balloon. “Do you want the honors?”

With one hand over my heart and tears in my eyes, I graciously accepted. “You’re the best friend ever.”

“I know.”

I made my way over to the window and opened it. Two stories below me, a cocky Bradley sat on a stool with perfect hair someone was hired to spend twenty minutes making it look ‘natural’. I held the balloon out the window, directly over his head. Kalie gave me the thumbs up and… bombs away!

The balloon splashed directly on Bradley’s stupid perfect hair, soaking him. Its splash reached a radio big enough to drench the camera crew and their equipment. From above, I watched them grumble and move to dry it. Only Bradley wised up and looked up,  to which he saw my smiling face. He scowled, then marched inside.

Finally, he made it to my room. Kalie took one look at the scene about to unfold, took a bag of popcorn out of her bag, and got comfortable on my bed. “Begin.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, then began. “What the hell, Dylan?”

“I could say the same to you.”

He frowned. “Why would you call me Dylan?” Bradley paused, disgust flickering on his face. “Ugh, what is that taste?”

“I got the water from my sister’s fish tank,” Kalie said.

“Your sister has fish?”

“Not now, but two years ago she did.”

Bradley looked like he was gonna vomit now. “Ew. Seriously you two, was this really necessary?”

“Probably not, but we’ve given out dozens of free watermelons,” Kalie said. “It’s safe to assume we have way too much time on our hands.” She leapt off the bed and took a threatening step towards Bradley. “So it’s not gonna stop until you go back out there for the interview, tell Sasha there’s been a huge misunderstanding, that you’re not the Reverse-Watermelon-Bandit, nor do you know who is. Or this, will never stop. You took away our hobby. So get it back or become our new one.”

Shivers of pleasure raced down my spine. This is why I befriended Kalie in kindergarten. Even back then, she could blackmail the teacher into giving us extra nap time. Life was so good.

Bradley held up his hands defensively. “Alright, alright. I’ll do it. God, just keep her away from me.”

“Done.”

While periodically looking over his shoulder to see if Kalie would jump him, Bradley returned to his interview. Kalie pulled out another watermelon lollipop. “That went well. Now, let’s head to the lake. But first—” She slid the Box ‘O Bees under her arm. “Let’s drop by Mr. O’Shell’s house.”

“Your English teacher? Why?”

“I don’t know how long bees live and wanna make the best of this opportunity.”

I grabbed Bradley’s keys, feeling like he won’t have a problem with us ‘borrowing’ his car anymore. “Let’s go then.”

***

And so, Kalie and I spent that wonderful Saturday basking in the sun and the glory of reclaiming our hobby while listening to the birds chirp and Mr. O’Shell scream like a little girl. Kalie handed me a fresh slice of my girlfriend. Yeah, life doesn’t get any better than this.