An old lady is sitting in front her TV knitting and watching “Mamas Family” when she hears a knock on the door. When she opens it, there is a salesman standing on her doorstep. She asks, “Yes?” The salesman explains that he is selling watermelons for a delivery service, and that every other day, they would deliver a watermelon to her doorstep. “My that’s a splendid idea.” the old woman says, so she signs up. The salesman tells her that she would receive her first watermelon in two days, then he leaves. Well, two days go by, and no watermelon. Four days, no watermelon. Six days, still no watermelon. The old lady calls up the watermelon delivery service, and demands, “Where are my watermelons?” They explain that they have been delivering them to her doorstep for the past couple of days, so they ask if there are any people that might walk by her doorstep, thinking that it’s theirs. She says, “Why yes, I share my front porch with my new next door neighbours.” The people on the phone also tell her that in order to eliminate any confusion, they always write the initials of the customer on the watermelons, so whomever has been taking them, was probably knowingly stealing them. They tell her that maybe she should find out from her neighbours, if they have been taking the watermelons. By now, she’s furious! She hangs up the phone and hobbles over to the next door neighbour’s front door and knocks it with her cane. A big hairy guy in a t-shirt and holding a beer can answers. She asks, “Sonny, have you been stealing my watermelons?” The guy explains that he doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about, so the big guy calls down his son, and asks him if he knows what happened to the watermelons. The son says proudly, “Yes I done took the watermelons, and I et dem!” The man furiously takes off his belt, puts his son over his knee and gets ready to give the poor boy a whippin’ like he’s never had before. Before the boy could finish his explanation, “But Dad, on da watermelons, it said on dem…” the father gives the boy several lashes with the belt. The kid’s screaming and crying, arms and legs are flailing about. After that was all over, the father sent the boy up to his room. He got out his chequebook, and explained to her that he would pay for the watermelons, and that the boy would not steal them any more. So he asked the old woman to whom he should write the check out to. She replies, “Oh just write it out to me. My full name is …

Esther Alice Thomson.”

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