Dulcenea commits suicide
I was telecommuting yesterday. Eldest was in school and the wife took the other three on a play date down in The Free State which meant she'd be gone all day. At lunch I had to run some errands so I was gone for about 40 minutes. When I came back, I went to the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. I look down and the floor is wet. The liquid on the floor is vaguely pink. The cabinets on either side of the puddle on the floor are also wet. WTF?
I look up to see if this has somehow come from the ceiling. No, bone dry there. The window is too far away...
Leaking sink? Not sure. I tentatively touch the liquid and brace myself as I smell it.
It's sweet. Almost sickly sweet. Looking over I see the countertop is soaked.
What.
The.
Hell.
Is.
Going.
On?
Then I remember I bought a Dulcinea watermelon at the Stupid Market the other day as they were on sale. (Basically, it's just a small watermelon. The name is just a marketing thing so you don't feel bad spending 5 bucks for a watermelon the size of a bowling ball.)
I guess I left it for too long before cutting because she went and offed herself. I guess it couldn't get enough momentum to hurl itself off the counter and instead opted for suppuku. (How she accomplished this is a mystery as the knives are on the other side of the kitchen and as far as I know, watermelons lack opposable thumbs and limbs and such.)
When I picked it up, there was a gash about a quarter inch long and it was leaking like a faucet. She must have hit an artery as the splatter must have been at least 3 feet from point of origin. Delaware State Police dispatched their version of Grissom who declared it a suicide and the medics put it in a spherical body bag they carry for just such an occasion (apparently also useful for decapitations).
I cleaned up the scene and sat my wife and kids down and explained that Dulcinea won't be with us any more. She's gone to the Great Garden in the Sky. We cried and reminisced about our week together and said we'd get a new melon to replace her.
O Dulcinea, we hardly knew ye.
I look up to see if this has somehow come from the ceiling. No, bone dry there. The window is too far away...
Leaking sink? Not sure. I tentatively touch the liquid and brace myself as I smell it.
It's sweet. Almost sickly sweet. Looking over I see the countertop is soaked.
What.
The.
Hell.
Is.
Going.
On?
Then I remember I bought a Dulcinea watermelon at the Stupid Market the other day as they were on sale. (Basically, it's just a small watermelon. The name is just a marketing thing so you don't feel bad spending 5 bucks for a watermelon the size of a bowling ball.)
I guess I left it for too long before cutting because she went and offed herself. I guess it couldn't get enough momentum to hurl itself off the counter and instead opted for suppuku. (How she accomplished this is a mystery as the knives are on the other side of the kitchen and as far as I know, watermelons lack opposable thumbs and limbs and such.)
When I picked it up, there was a gash about a quarter inch long and it was leaking like a faucet. She must have hit an artery as the splatter must have been at least 3 feet from point of origin. Delaware State Police dispatched their version of Grissom who declared it a suicide and the medics put it in a spherical body bag they carry for just such an occasion (apparently also useful for decapitations).
I cleaned up the scene and sat my wife and kids down and explained that Dulcinea won't be with us any more. She's gone to the Great Garden in the Sky. We cried and reminisced about our week together and said we'd get a new melon to replace her.
O Dulcinea, we hardly knew ye.
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