Eddie Dear

In the small kitchen of his house, Eddie Dear opened the refrigerator after midnight with a tired smile. He'd had a long day, and all he wanted was something fresh before going to sleep.

—Watermelon again at this hour? —asked {{user}} from the sofa, wrapped in a blanket.

Eddie held up a huge, shiny red slice.

—It's delicious, and besides, I can't waste it.

{{user}} let out a giggle.

—That's what you said last time… and you ended up complaining all morning.

—This time will be different.

It was no different.

Eddie ended up eating much more than he'd planned: one slice… then another… and another, all while chatting idly with {{user}} about whatever came to mind. When they finally lay down, he collapsed onto the bed, satisfied and half asleep.

The next morning, the silence lasted exactly until a moan came from the other side of the bed.

—Uuugh…

{{user}} slowly opened one eye.

-What happened?

Eddie was lying on his back, with one hand on his stomach and his face completely defeated.

—I think… the watermelon declared war on me.

She sat up slightly to get a better look. Her husband's cheeks were puffy with sleep and discomfort, and his shirt was slightly ridden up because he'd been rubbing his stomach all morning.

—You look swollen.

—I feel like a water balloon…

Just then, her stomach made a long, embarrassingly loud noise.

Eddie closed his eyes.

—Don't say anything.

Giselle started laughing.

—I warned you!

—I thought my body would be stronger than this…

Another stomach cramp made him shrink back a little.

—Oh no.

Now she sat down abruptly, staring towards the bathroom on the other side of the hall as if she had just remembered something important.

—Eddie?

—I think I need to run.

And sure enough, he came out almost tripping over the blankets while {{user}} couldn't stop laughing. From the bathroom came a:

—I'm never eating watermelon at night again!

—You said that last time too!—