Oh, and the end is gross.
Way, way, way back in the day when I was about 8 (before
Sidebar: We were having watermelon. I think this story is the cause of my distaste for watermelon to this day.
We were, err, I was being silly, as an 8 year old child typically is. What made this day special was that my dad was being silly too. You just have to understand that he wasn't a silly guy. My mom had already gotten up from the table, and in a rare moment of solidarity, my brother, father and I refused to allow her to turn the channel. Why? Because midget wrestling was on, of course.
I'm not sure that you understand how funny midget wrestling is to an 8 year old, so I'll tell you.
We laughed. We laughed hard. My mother warned me to stop. I couldn't. It was midgets wrestling for pete's sake. My dad was egging us on. My mom said I was going to get sick. I didn't care. It was hilarious and my dad was on our side. Side-splitting laughter kept occurring. I'm pretty sure one wrestler went up to the top rope. Do you know how high that is? That was it. By far the funniest thing an 8 year old has seen. Another warning came from my mother. I should have listened.
The next minute is burned in my mind forever. I was laughing hysterically as I shoved watermelon down my throat and the inevitable happened. My stomach decided that I should either laugh or eat, but not both. My brain was laughing too loud to hear my stomach, just as I was laughing too loud to hear my mom. I would say that there was no warning, but I'm sure there was for my gut erupted and the watermelon returned to the table. I can't remember what I had for lunch yesterday but I remember that I had a paper plate sitting in a wicker plate holder.
After the initial shock that I had thrown up, to the disgust of my mother, we kept laughing. That was a great day in Burkes history.
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