The weatherman is confusing again.

Worse yet, the house must’ve shrunk. Five of us crowded inside: me, my father, his wheelchair, and two watermelons in the fridge.

Not particularly concerned about the wheelchair, but the melons could easily come to believe that under these circumstances they have the upper hand.

John Szamosi is a wordsmith and peace activist. He’s been publishing short stories, satires and poems since his freshman year in college.