I just got back from getting my haircut and figured that, while I wasn’t hungry I should probably eat something to tide me over till the stomach growls to make its existence known. I checked out the fridge and the only thing that would really fit as a snack was the last slice of a cantaloupe I carved up about a week ago.
Now, I’m not going to name any names, but I will say it was not my idea to place the post-sliced cantaloupe into a plastic bag you get from the grocery store. For starters that just sounds unsanitary, and I think it only helps to speed up the process of this fruit’s deterioration. Cantaloupes have a nasty habit of growing mold a day after they are bought on that odd, circular-basket weave-like exterior they posses. Starting out mostly whole and intact, I can see, barely, letting the fruit stay in the bag (for reasons still unknown). But after about half of it is gone, its time to put that orange sphere of seeds onto a paper plate or something.
There was a wedge of cantaloupe about two and half inches across by…whatever length wide (like seven inches in a curled shape) wrapped up in that plastic bag. And it was juicy. So juicy that the bottom half of the wedge was soaking in some sort of liquid. Apparently, that juice had mingled with the cantaloupe for probably a good day or two before I got to it this morning. The first sign of trouble was that said liquid was a twinge of brown. I know for a fact that one of the major discoveries of mold being made into something beneficial to man came off of a cantaloupe’s hide, and that stew in the bag wasn’t earning any favors at that point.
I seeded what was left still attached to the flesh of the melon, and washed the entire wedge under running water for a good thirty seconds to free the fruit of any of the murky slurry that it was swimming in. The first scoop of it proved to be the second sign of trouble, as the taste was… something off.
I’m going to assume you know what fresh cantaloupe is like. It was like that, only, if you can imagine, first dredging that piece in a thick pile of pickling salt, then allowing it to melt into the surface of the orange flesh before consuming it. It was mostly a cantaloupe taste, but always lurking just behind it was a salty bath of…strangeness.
It could have been just that one piece, of course. So I *had* to have a second taste to make sure it wasn’t just an odd brain synapse or something. But, no. I was correct with my first testing that it, in fact, does have an incredibly strong yet light taste of salt that never takes the forefront, but is constantly letting it’s presence known in the background.
I could have very well eaten something that might just mutate me into the first of a immense zombie legion that brutally takes over the Great Midwest, before naming it any every town within it to the great zombie warcry of “Braaaayy-nnnnzz!”
So just in case I made sure to let my father have a bite as well. What? We could totally do that whole Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader ‘rule the galaxy’ bit. Only undead. And one planet. But hell, even if all we did was stare blankly at the movie cameras I bet we’d show more emotion than anything in movies 1-3.
Probably better storyline, too.