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Every Life is a Story
    A place to share my own family stories

Thursday, June 7, 2007


When I was in the second grade, my grandparents moved to Oklahoma. We lived in Oregon, so we planned big summer trips to go and visit them. On this particular day, we were at someone's house, and they had given my sister and I some watermelon to eat. It was a scorching hot day, and the watermelon tasted wonderful. It was juicy and dripping, and we sat out on the porch enjoying every bite.

We were still finishing the last bit of watermelon when the musical sound of an ice cream truck was heard. Ice cream is even better than watermelon! We frantically begged my parents for ice cream, and they agreed we could have something. My mother went out with us to meet the ice cream truck, and we stood on the sidewalk excitedly waiting for the truck to arrive.

That was when my feet burst into flames. At least, it felt that way. I looked down as my feet started to burn with a sudden and intense heat, and screamed at the swarm of fire ants that had covered my feet. All that watermelon juice had dripped down my legs and onto my sandal-covered feet. The nest of red ants living in the sidewalk couldn't resist the tasty snack, and raced to get a bite. There was a blur of activity, with people trying to get the ants off of me, and to tend the mass of little red welts forming on my feet. When all was calmed down, the ice cream truck had come and gone, and I had very sore feet instead.

Watermelon. A great summer snack for people and insects. Apparently also good with a side of human flesh.


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