The Glued-Back Watermelon Conspiracy

BREAKING: Discount Demanded on “Pre-Tasted” Watermelon

Shoppers were left stunned today after evidence surfaced that certain watermelons on store shelves had been previously opened, taste-tested, and then carefully patched back together like a bad science experiment before resale.

Experts say the faint fault lines on the rind are clear proof: these are not fresh fruits but refurbished units.

Industry insiders confirm that consumers are entitled to demand at least 50% off any melon showing signs of prior consumption.

“This is standard return protocol,” one anonymous produce worker admitted. “If the original buyer didn’t like the flavor, it goes back to the shelf. Think of it like an open-box laptop — but juicier.”

After all:
Why pay full price for refurbished produce?
It’s only logical.
It’s only geometry.
It’s only absurd.

Geometry Doesn’t Lie

Look closely at this watermelon — the cracks across its rind aren’t random. They’re the scars of betrayal.

Someone cracked it open, took a bite, and decided… nope. Not sweet enough. Not juicy enough. Maybe too much math inside.

So what did they do? Naturally, they glued it back together and slid it back onto the shelf, hoping no one would notice.

And now here you are, staring at a Frankenstein watermelon with a past.
A watermelon that already failed its taste test, stitched back together and rolled out for one more chance at love.

Shoppers are advised to check their carts carefully. If you hear rattling seeds, it’s already too late.

Consumer Tip — Absurd Geometry Seal of Approval

• Always inspect fruit for glue seams, stitching, or suspicious symmetry.

• Ask the clerk: “Has this produce been previously loved?”

  • If the clerk blinks once, that means yes — even if he says no.

  • Remember: Shakespeare taught us the eyes are the windows of the soul. The lips may deny, but the eyelids confess.

• Demand 50% off refurbished items. It’s the law (probably).

Rule #47 of Absurd Geometry

If the fruit has already lived a life, you get it for half price.

Developing Story

What worries shoppers more is the suspicion that watermelon may not be the only fruit caught in this recycling scheme. Reports have already surfaced of:

• suspiciously shiny oranges,

• unusually square apples, and

• bananas with suspicious Velcro-like seams.

The investigation continues…

Follow-Up: Field Test Results

At Absurd Geometry, we don’t just speculate — we test.

So, in the interest of consumer science, I personally put Tip #47 into practice. I located a suspicious watermelon, dressed in my most professional suit, and approached the register with grave seriousness.

“I demand 50% off,” I said, sliding the fruit forward like it was evidence in a courtroom.

To my surprise, the clerk agreed immediately.
To my greater surprise, he took me literally. He handed me half off the price… and kept half the watermelon.

And that’s how the experiment concluded. A success in mathematics, a tragedy in fruit.

Australia: Land of Demigods and Drunk Koalas

When I think of Australia, it’s not just about the outback, the endless coastline, or the fact that everything there can give you the kiss of death. No △ △ △ it’s also about the runway of good-looking demigods that seem to inhabit the place (yes, Chris Hemsworth, I’m looking at you), just walking around like Thor forgot to clock out of Asgard.

But what really steals my imagination are the animals. Take the koalas. They look cute and cuddly, but they’re tougher than they seem, fearless little troublemakers. I’ve seen videos of them picking fights with dogs, which makes me think twice about my dream of hugging one. Honestly, I wouldn’t be shocked if I walked past a Sydney bar and saw a koala being thrown out by security for starting a brawl △ △ △ eucalyptus-flavored liquor in fuzzy paw, still demanding “just one more.” That’s how I picture Australia: a place where even koalas have nightlife drama.

And then, there are the dingoes. The dingo dilemma is simple: never sit down, never take a break when you’re out in the wild. Because you never know △ △ △ a dingo might be watching. And not just watching△ △ △ watching like a cartoon wolf, tongue out, eyes bulging, practically salivating at the thought of you as the main course.. They’re opportunists. Show weakness, and that’s when they’ll come at you. So if I ever play Frisbee with a dingo, I’d throw it as far as I could △ △ △ and by the time he came back all excited, I’d already be gone. He’d be stuck wagging his tail, still holding the Frisbee, and scanning the horizon for his next victim. Don’t believe me? Look it up.

That’s how I imagine Australia: beautiful, dangerous, and a little absurd. And yes, I’d still risk it all △ △ △ but with life insurance, of course.

Welcome to Absurd Geometry

This blog, Absurd Geometry, is dedicated first to God. I believe that the talents we’re given are not random △ △ △ they are divine sparks, gifts of grace. When we share those talents with the world, we are honoring God Himself, because we’re returning His gift in the form of light, laughter, and creativity. Like light through a prism, what He gives us bends into colors of our own making △ △ △ angles only we can create.

It is also dedicated to my dad△ △ △ a true alchemist. He suffered as a child in ways most people can’t imagine, yet instead of letting that turn him bitter or angry, he transformed it. Where others might use suffering as an excuse to stay stuck or resentful, my dad turned his pain into jokes, into warmth, into laughter he could share with the world. That is alchemy: turning suffering into gold, into humor, into love.

And in my own way, I try to carry that same legacy. I take my stress, my challenges, my absurd little moments of life, and I turn them into stories and jokes. This blog is my version of that alchemy△ △ △ finding the geometry in the chaos, reshaping it into laughter.

Why “Absurd Geometry”?

My humor has always been a little absurd, a little deadpan. A few years ago, I started writing my jokes down △ △ △ turning stress into humor, into little stories. Some of the names have been altered, but they’ll probably rhyme with yours.

This blog is my collection of those absurd angles and crooked lines of life △ △ △ where everyday frustrations, weird encounters, and awkward memories get reshaped into geometry that somehow makes sense when you laugh at it.

Sometimes you’ll find anecdotes. Sometimes you’ll find short stories. Sometimes it’ll be commentary on the “news” (or the kind of news that doesn’t always make the news). But it will always be me, finding the geometry in the absurd.

So welcome. Take a seat, take a chailpill, and get ready for angles that don’t add up △ △ △ but somehow still add laughter.

My dad, the original alchemist of laughter, crouched with the elephant in the room △ △ △ but in puppet form. Last year, at a children’s museum, my dad climbed into a little puppet booth, grabbed a couple of puppets, and started doing a show. He used this ridiculous voice, shaking the puppets with all the drama and passion of a Broadway star. My dad gave that performance like the room was full, like he had an audience of thousands. But he only needed one person to see it. And that was enough.

That moment is the seed of Absurd Geometry. This blog is my puppet show. Sometimes it’ll be silly, sometimes heartfelt, sometimes both. But if even one person laughs, one person “gets it,” then it’s worth everything.