Kevin’s Melon
Kevin’s melon, situated on top of a tight tuxedo, was in the process of consuming a rockmelon when Casey turned up in a floral jumpsuit, twirling like a kite on the breeze.
“Kev,” she said. Her dimples appeared as she smiled at him. One dimple was lit up by the sun, the other darkened in shadow. Her nose ring glinted in the light.
Kev swallowed prematurely, and spent the next five seconds trying not to prematurely end his life by suffocation.
“Casey,” he gasped. “You’re too early. Not to mention underdressed.”
“It’s five to three. An hour early with some change. And you never said anything about a dress code,” she said, frowning. Her dimples disappeared and her cheeks remerged, fresh and flat.
“My parents — they’re sort of strict about these things,” said Kev, taking another bite out of the slice of rockmelon that he was holding. The rest of the melon sat on the bench beside him, the knife balancing on top of it while a plastic bag separated it from the blue-painted wood below.
“I’m wearing a jumpsuit,” she said, sardonically. “Can I have some melon?”
“Sure,” he said, cutting her a slice. When Casey took a bite the pale orange juices ran down her chin; an explosion of flavour breaching the barriers of her lips.
“At least I’m not wearing nothing,” she said with her mouth full, bursting out laughing. She almost lost the rockmelon on her tongue.
Kev looked at her, grinned and said, “That comes later.”
Kev then spat half of the rockmelon out of his mouth, and the other half out of his nose, as he too started laughing. They both struggled to regain their composure, and when they did they took bites again of the rockmelon.
“What about this?” said Kev. He put down his slice, still chewing, and after licking his fingers, he took off his bowtie.
“Come here,” he said. Casey did as she was told, and they stood face to face while Kev wound the bowtie around her neck. She liked watching his face from close-up. The concentration in his pursed lips, his scrunched-up eyebrows — it was a fascinating view.
A minute later, Kev was finished.
“Done,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Kev offered his arm to Casey, which she took. In their free hands, they both grabbed a slice of rockmelon and walked along the path, arm in arm, slowly masticating their slices of the sweet orange fruit.
Matt Querzoli wrote this. Follow his writing blog, his letters to strangers blog or his blog blog if you liked the post, or even the bloke himself if this tickled your proverbial pickle.
