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It was a peaceful night in Washington, DC.

when three good friends were just chilling, hanging out, listening to some corny music about leaving the material world behind, and talking to each other about their boring corporate jobs. They were neighbors and knew each other since they were kids, which means that they had already discussed every single topic available… Nonetheless, there was always a new topic or a new angle to discuss. That’s how they remained friends. Well, that and a severe lack of social skills, but that’s a theme for another time.

Sam, the oldest one, wanted to relax a liiiittle bit more than usual, so he took out a tiny package with a set of pre-rolled blunts, and offered one to each of their friends. Jim, the youngest one, grabbed a blunt with a smirk on his face and said “Now we're talking!”— though they have already been talking for about three hours—. And Tom, the last one, rejected the proposal and just sat there, expressing discomfort.

–“I can't believe you guys are going to do this”, said Tom.

–“What are you talking about?”, asked Jim.

–“You are going to smoke that stuff! You have any idea of what it does to your lives? I once heard of a guy who smoked a blunt and murdered his whole family ”, answered Tom, disgusted.

–“His whole family, huh?”, asked Jim with obvious sarcasm.

– “And the neighbors’ cat too. He used only a pen”, replied Tom, truly believing his own words.

–“Damn, Tom, don't be like that!”, said Sam.

– “Yeah, weed don’t turn you into some misdirected John Wick”, uttered Jim. But Tom continued with his lame excuses.

–“I just don't like it, man. What if you overdose from it right in front of my eyes? Or what if I smoke it, and then I like it, and suddenly turn into a criminal? ARE YOU GUYS CRIMINALS OR…”

–“MAN! Imma stop you right there. Chill. Seriously, take a chill pill. In fact, take three. Take a break, and lower your voice. First of all, that's a bunch of misconceptions, none of that stuff is true. And second… Man, seriously, lower your voice, you gotta be careful. Watermelon Man is out there, he could be listening”, warned Sam.

–“The…What? Are you high already?”, asked a confused Tom.

–“The Watermelon Man, Tom! He's real…Let's better stop this talk right now, I'm getting anxious…”, said Jim.

–“WHO IS THIS GUY?! WHAT DOES HE DO?! IS HE YOUR DEALER?”, screamed Tom, annoyed from his friends' nonsense talk.

–“Tom! Sit your ass down, kid. Daddy is gonna tell you a story.”, said Sam.

– “Alright, alright, alright, but I’m not calling you ‘daddy’”, replied Tom.

– “Fair enough. But keep calm as I’m gonna tell you the story of ‘The Watermelon Man’”.

Tom nodded, Jim encouraged Sam and the latter continued with the story.

“The Watermelon Man is an urban legend, a definitely true one. We don't know if he's a man, or a ghost, or a freaking extraterrestrial. The only thing we know for sure is that he LOVES weed. And a lot. He LOVES weed and HATES people who spread misinformation about it…”

Jim takes over the story.

“You know how Batman tosses criminals around as if they were a bunch of pillows, breaks their backs and leaves people on vital support for life, to then say ‘Batman doesn't kill’? Well, this guy's the same, only he goes after folks who’re trying to kill good vibes. One time, I heard he snapped a guy's little finger because he said that munchies weren't real. And I won't even tell you what he did to the guy that said that you could develop cancer from smoking pre-rolled blunts, because my kneecaps hurt from just hearing that story!”

Tom seemed confused, though Jim continued.

“The only thing everyone who summons him hears are his gold chains clicking. Then, they see his hockey mask, his dreadlocks…Yes the guy’s got swag, but he’s also dangerous because ultimately the last thing his witnesses feel is the wrath of his baseball bat.”

Tom looked at his friends in disbelief, as all horror story victims do.

–“Okay, so… Where does this guy come from?”, he asked.

–“Nobody knows. He likes weed and breaking kneecaps, it's not rocket science. Just don't try to bother the guy, okay? It's better that way”, said Sam, lighting his joint.

“–Mmm…You know what? Imma head out and go straight home. You guys keep destroying your lungs, your lives and everyone else’s around you. I don’t know, just try not to overdose or something. I can’t believe my friends are so corrupt”.

–“Tom, wait!”, screamed Jim, terrified.

And as soon as Tom left, all Sam and Jim could hear was the sound of a gold chain hitting the ground, repeatedly.

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