By Trent Tibbitts

When you growing up in the country there is always a watermelon patch close by. I have heard stories all my live from men of my father’s generation, who, when young would sneak in to a watermelon patch and take one or two down to the creek for a treat. Much to the disappointment of the owner of the patch. Some would get caught and take a beating for it and some would get away with the crime.

With knowing those stories, I find this next one very amusing. It comes from my grandmother. Today is the first time I have heard of this story. It was among items of her’s that my mother has in storage. I believe she wanted to share it and that is why she typed it out so many years ago. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Copy of story from Mrs. Polly Bone.

Back around age 13 or 14 (1933 or 1934) – I was living in Royston, Georgia and had a friend, who lived in Vanna, Georgia – He wanted a date with a girl in Royston – so I obliged and also got one for myself.
He came up from Vanna that July night driving his daddy’s 1926 or 27 Model-T Ford – I remember it had roll-up windows.
We picked up the girls and were riding around – Wasn’t much to do in those days but ride around.
I mentioned the fact that old man so and so had a watermelon patch about one-fourth mile from the center of town; it was close to the road.
The girls decided it would be exciting – if we parked next to the patch, I could be the hero and borrow a big melon from the patch.
I knew the man who owned the patch – he was a fractious man – easy to loose his temper – so we did not bother to get his permission.
We parked and I eased out of the car into the patch – it was a dark night and I was feeling around trying to find a big one – I heard a noise in the cornfield next to the melon patch – then a big shadow stepped out of the corn and let out a bad curse word!
It scared me so bad, I jumped about 4 feet into the air and hollared, (I really think I scared him also, as it was dark and neither of us could see the other too well).
As I descended to the ground, I was already running over corn stalks; headed back to the T – Model; when I went by the T – Model, I hollared to my friend – “He’s out there” – about that time, a gun went off – I heard the bullet whiz by; so i never did break speed – I heard my friend trying to crank the T – Model as I was swiftly moving out of sound range.
I was up town standing on the corner when they came driving up.
The old fellow who owned the melon patch was up town the next morning – telling everybody he shot at a so and so, in his melon patch last night.
I am glad he didn’t shoot me – as it would have been on his conscience the rest of his life.
seriously – I know the Good Lord saved me and taught me a lesson; thereafter, I thumped my melons in the daytime and paid cash.

The End.