User:Bizzeebeever/Articles/Vampire watermelon
The Vampire Watermelon is a variety of domesticated fruit-bearing plant native to the Balkans. If left out-of-doors during a full moon, or kept past Christmas, the Vampire Watermelon is said to sprout wings and flutter about in the darkness, or roll along the ground, gnashing its non-existent teeth, and filling all who see it with bone-curdling...laughter. As the Vampire Watermelon is unable to escape the tether of its own vine, it is, sadly, a failure as both a mythical terror and a foodstuff, although, due to its weight, it might be a rather effective throwing weapon — supposing, of course, that your enemy was capable of hefting it, or throwing it further than five feet.[1]
Origins of the myth[edit | edit source]
The Lies[edit | edit source]
As celebrated historian and ethnologist Татомир Вукановић would have it, the myth connected with vampyre fruit originated with Gypsies. Says Вукановић:
| “ | ...било је прљавих Цигана који је почео мит о вампиру-воће... | ” |
According to another historian, it was a favored pastime of Gypsies in the late 1800s to stand about in their villages and see which of them could invent the most ludicrous nocturnal neck-biting beast without cracking up — preferably within earshot of the nearest British-looking foreigner. Finally, one day, two Gypsy women in the village of Srzgrlrsc realized that all possible beasts had already been vampirized (including the fearsome "vampire earthworm"), and moved on to inanimate objects, at which point they invented the Vampire Water-Melon.
| “ | Seeing a suitably gormless writer from Dublin standing nearby, the two began to show off, building on each others' fabrications. For instance, one of them claimed that the water-melons became vampires whilst "fighting one another", the other adding, "and making a sound like 'brrrl, brrrl, brrrl!" The Dubliner scribbled furiously in his note-book as the women talked.
At this point, the women subsided into cackling laughter, unable to continue. But the Dubliner had already stalked away, with his overflowing notebook; his notes would later become the celebrated Gothic novel Cucurbita. The Dubliner's name was Abraham Stoker.[2] |
” |
The Truth[edit | edit source]
The truth, however, is far more insidious. The Vampyre Water-Melon has been haunting the by-ways and alleys, the deserted fields and darkened forests for centuries, tearing a streak of evil through the velvet bosom of the night. Despite having almost no hunting skills to speak of (other than somehow projecting a ray of pure terror several meters in front of it as it rolls around the ground), its thrall proves inescapable for its favorite prey, the Scantily-Clad Young Woman with Large Breasts and Weak Ankles. No matter how fleet of foot she is, she will inevitably sprain one of those weak, weak ankles, and tumble into a tantalizing, nearly-naked heap, screaming helplessly while the Vampyre Water-Melon has its way with her.
Vampyre Water-Melons in popular culture[edit | edit source]
Is your watermelon a vampire?[edit | edit source]
Protecting yourself from the Vampyre Water-Melon[edit | edit source]
In most cases, having a large, sharp cleaver nearby is all you need to protect yourself from the menace of the Vampyre Water-Melon. However, there may be some circumstances — such as at a wedding, or aboard a plane — where keeping a one-kilogram chunk of sharp, high-carbon stainless close at hand is frowned upon, to the tune of, let's say, a felony conviction. Therefore, it is imperative to plan ahead for situations where you may find yourself without a government-approved ACME Vampyre Water-Melon Killing Kit™.
Scenario 1: On an airplane[edit | edit source]
Are you slightly mentally impaired? Vampyre Water-Melons don't fly commercially. You have nothing to fear from a Vampyre Water-Melon aboard that Airbus A300. Now, the undercooked chicken dinner on that tuberculosis-covered tray-table in front of you? That group of turban-wearing folks seated directly over the fuel tanks? The disgruntled mechanics who replaced a certain critically-important hydraulic pump in Engine #2 this morning in a slap-dash, Devil-may-care manner? Or the slightly-buzzed pilot? Oh, you've got plenty to fear from them. You'll be lucky if you make it out of the airplane with your intestines on the inside of your body. Have a nice flight!
Scenario 2: Midnight in an old, spooky castle[edit | edit source]
Spending midnight alone in an old, spooky castle is a bad idea. Scratch that — it is the ultimate bad idea, one that vacates all your previous claims to "intelligence". Have you ever seen a horror movie? Deserted castles are like roach motels for spectral evil — except when they check in, it's you that never checks out. To say you're "asking for it" is to state that Liberace was blasé about vagina. Why not just leap into the tiger pit at the zoo while wearing a suit made entirely of pork chops? You're living on the ground floor of the Idiocy Building, sir — a space only infrequently inhabited by even the superstars of human stupidity. Congratulations. Unfortunately, this guide was meant for non-stupid, non-suicidal folks, and as you missed that boat entirely, it goes against our principles to render you assistance.
Scenario 3: Midnight in the Black Forest[edit | edit source]
Escaping the Vampyre Water-Melon in the dead of night in the Black Forest is, of course, utterly impossible — if you are a scantily-clad young woman with large breasts and weak ankles. It's probably best to lean back and enjoy the sensation as you are transformed into a creature with a thick rind, delicious, watery flesh, and black seeds.
If, on the other hand, you are not a scantily-clad young woman with bountiful bosoms and weak ankles (more's the pity), escaping is a straightforward matter. When you see one coursing along the ground toward you, simply wait until it is nearly upon you, and then take a quick, half-meter step to your left. You may need to repeat this a few times, but the Vampyre Water-Melon tires quickly, and as it is probably not very interested in you anyway, it will soon roll off in pursuit of easier prey.[3] It is not necessary to give the Vampyre Water-Melon a kick as it passes, and while doing so may provide you with a sudden, distinct sense of satisfaction, it is...really very tacky. If you do succumb to such temptation, it is recommended that you wear football cleats or steel-toed boots, for maximum effect.
Scenario 4: A village is being decimated by rampaging Vampyre Water-Melons, and you are Gallagher[edit | edit source]
If a village is being decimated by rampaging Vampyre Water-Melons and your name is Gallagher, the world (including that village) has one question for you:
We're not saying you're known solely for splattering watermelons with a mallet, but if you went to the Serengeti and asked Masai villagers "who is Gallagher?" they would reply with a series of clicks and pops which, when translated, would amount to "he's that idiot who smashes watermelons with a mallet." Do you know what we call someone who has given blow-jobs for 30 years?
"Dead from hep-C." Badda-bing!
No, actually, we call them a "professional". If you've been crushing melons for 30 years, it's a good bet that you qualify as a "professional watermelon smasher." For every minute you waste reading this article, you could be saving some poor villager from a fate worse than death! Which asks the question, "were you born an asshole, or did you just practice until you got good at it?" Considering that no one under the age of 35 knows who the fuck you are, saving that village will be your best career move since your hostile takeover of Sledgehammers 'Я' Us. So heft that mallet, you sticky, watermelon-mashing bastard, and go mash some goddamned watermelons!
Footnotes[edit | edit source]
- ↑ In this case, you might have more to worry about from him than the watermelon he is chucking at you.
- ↑ Insert Historian's Name Here, How To Dismiss Cultural Legends with the Proper Amount of Condescension, Yale University Press
- ↑ Such as a scantily-clad young female with enormous, bouncy knockers...and weak ankles.