THE FARMER AND THE MELON
Mr. Martino used to keep his stories inside his hat. When asked to tell a story he would take his hat off, look inside it, shake it, and eventually, he would fish from the hat a piece of paper where the story was written. (In reality, the stories were all in his head, but he liked to play games. Once in a while, he would say” See? The hat is empty.”
The kids were disappointed and went away with long faces. This happened not very often, he did not like to disappoint the children. Sometimes, he would run and all the children would run after him.
‘The tale is running away; I have to catch it.’ He screamed. The kids loved this.
When the kids asked him to tell them more stories, he would try to get them to go away, but in the end, he would sometimes fish a story out of his big hat and tell them. Most of the time, they loved the story. Sometimes they didn’t understand what he was talking about.
“Once upon a time,” was always the starting point of the tale.
“Once upon a time, there was a farmer. He had chickens, rabbits, pigs, cows, and sheep living on his farm. He treated them well, but – there is always a but- he would occasionally eat them. You know roasted chicken, bacon, and so on. They tasted great but if you are a chicken or a pig, you would not be very happy about it.
One day they decided that they had had enough, and they started a kind of revolution. When the farmer went to feed the chicken he got eggs thrown at his face. The cows tried to charge him with their horns to gore him..even the roses try to hurt him with their thorns.
All the animals on the farm were carrying banners ‘Don’t eat chickens, ‘Don’t eat pigs,’ and so on.
The farmer was very shocked. He treated all his animals well. He kept them clean. He gave them food. He was surprised to see this happening and could not partake of any food for days. For breakfast, he went for eggs and bacon and saw the chicken and the pig protesting. He could not eat anymore and quickly looked very emaciated and weak.
The animals thought they were winning the battle. They thought they could take charge of the farm and be happy and free for the rest of their lives.
The farmer sat in denial with his hand rifling in his hair and didn’t even dare to look at his farm; the land he had loved all the time.
The cow told him, ‘No more meat. ‘ The chicken told him, ‘No more eggs.’ The rabbits told him, ‘No more fur or meat from us.’
All the animals and the plants were telling him to get lost. He would not get anything anymore.
He was desperate, and then a little voice awakened him from his nightmare. The voice came from a round, fat-faced melon. ‘Sir,’ he said ‘Sir, I know they are all against you, but I think that without you I never would have been in this world. I would never have grown up the way I am now; all sweet and fat inside my skin.
Please, Sir, eat me. I would be very happy to serve the purpose I have been made for. I would love to be eaten by you than to become rotten and be eaten by …whatever.
Only one thought I ask of you. When you eat me, take the seed out of my body and sow it again in fertile land. Grown the little plants like they would be your own children.
That is my wish.” The farmer was very touched, and he took the melon, embraced him, and kissed him.
We don’t really know if the farmer ate the sweet melon or not, but the animals when they heard the story, started thinking. ‘Without him, we would never be born at all. He is very kind to us.’
Their protests were forgotten and the farm’s animals and plants went further with their lives as they always had been.
The cow told him, ‘Sorry sir, I understand; I got carried away. Would you please be so kind as to forgive me for my behavior? I would – however – ask not to be eaten as a young animal and because I can furnish you with my milk, I would sign a contract. I give you milk and you give me food, shelter, and protection. Veterinarian’s health care and school for my children.
The farmer agreed with this request from his cow.
The chicken said more or less the same. Eggs for the farmer and assurance not to be roasted in the oven.
The pigs had a bad time not knowing what to offer the farmer other than the bacon and pork cops, but they were a minority and they had to make a deal too, even if it was not a nice one.
That was the tale for the day.
Mr Martino put his hat back on his head and went away wagging like an old goose wearing a hat.
CARLO 