Okay. So I wasn’t even trying to read anything heavy. I was literally scrolling Reddit while reheating leftover noodles as I usually do in evenings, and then, boom, this image shows up. A watermelon. But foaming watermelon. Like… not a normal one. This one had frothy white stuff leaking out of it, and at first I thought someone had played a prank and filled it with shaving cream or something. I’ve never seen anything like that. I showed the pic to my husband. He was shocked too. We couldn’t figure out what it was and why it was like that.
The caption said something like, “We left our watermelon from Costco on the counter and it started foaming. Google said it might explode. So we bagged it and put it in the outdoor bin. Next morning it blew up. Now there are maggots.”
Which. Cool.
So now I’m staring at my own watermelon—yes, I had one, of course I did—like it’s a live grenade.
Apparently That’s a Thing That Can Happen?
I did not know watermelons could ferment inside themselves. That’s a sentence I never expected to say. But yeah, turns out if they’re warm and bruised and full of sugar (which, like, they are), bacteria can get in and have a little rave in there. They turn the sugar into gas, and the gas builds pressure, and next thing you know—you’ve got an exploding melon situation.
I don’t know who let this be a thing, but I’d like a word.
If It Starts Foaming, Just… No
I haven’t had one foam on me (yet?) but I’ve now memorized what to do. Because that post lives in my head.
If your watermelon starts acting like it’s rabid:
Don’t even think about tasting it. Don’t “just cut off the weird part.” You’re not Gordon Ramsay. It’s poison fruit now.
Bag it, like you’re handling something radioactive. I’m talking big bag. Thick. Don’t be delicate. Actually, do. You don’t want it exploding in your arms like some cursed fruit piñata.
Put it outside and walk away. Like, emotionally too. Detach.
So Now I’m a Paranoid Fruit Buyer, Thanks
I went to the store yesterday and found myself inspecting every watermelon like I was considering a marriage proposal. I tapped. I sniffed. I stared at one for so long someone asked if I was okay.
Here’s what I try to do now, anyway:
No soft spots. If it feels like a stress ball, it’s a no.
No weird markings or bruises. Don’t convince yourself it’s just “natural.”
Fridge. Immediately. I don’t care how aesthetic it looks on the counter. That’s where mold dreams begin.
Eat it sooner. I used to wait like 5 days before cutting into it. Not anymore. The second I get it home, it’s basically a countdown.
Also, fun fact: dropping it (which I used to do all the time—they’re slippery!) can cause internal bruising, which lets bacteria get comfy. So yeah, handle it like you’re holding a baby made of jelly and lies.
I Checked Mine. Obviously.
After that Reddit post, I opened my fridge like it was a horror movie. Reached for the watermelon. Gave it a little pat like, “Hey, buddy, you okay?” It was cold, no cracks, smelled normal. Still, I kept imagining it going pop in the middle of the night and waking up to my cat covered in melon bits.
So now this is just part of who I am. A person who fears melons. Great.
Anyway, I guess the takeaway here is that fruit shouldn’t explode, and yet here we are. Watch your produce.
And Then… It Happened
That night, something woke me up. A sound—dull, wet, unnatural. I sat up straight in bed, heart racing. My husband mumbled, “What was that?”
I didn’t want to say it.
I didn’t have to. The smell hit first.
The watermelon. Oh no.
Continue reading in page 2
