MelonHoneyDewYou

At the F'n Rad Dating Site, we are sad to say that things just didn't work out between daters, DaManDaMutt12345 and MelonHoneyDewYou, but we ARE excited to let you know that Melon is now single again! Here's her most recent bio.

Letter from potential dater, MelonHoneyDewYou, to the F’n Rad Dating Site

Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:

Hey, y’all.

Well, I’ll beeee.

Put your play pretties away. Dear Lord, I reckon I’ve got a story like you never heard before, or at least one you could tell your Mama when she’s drunker than a skunk and wearing her housecoat to the Family Dollar.

Truth, y’all.

So, my Uncle Billy’s telling me I have to find me a good man, else I’m gonna get called a thornback around these parts. So, I get my sights set on seeing this skater. I know, I know, always a skater. I been down these roads before, and I hang on to the wheel real tight on the gravel, but I keep on making the wrong turns somewhere near the Dairy Queen.

Pawn my word and honor, he’s from out east, and where I come from, these boys are super popular and worth a shot at the ring. Or after they clock out, they might give you a ride to see the Monster Trucks and the bulls. Truth, y’all, I never had a curly fry as good as the ones at the rodeo.

This boy goes by DaManDaMutt12345, but all growing up, word around town is that his real name is totally Fred, and I’m rolling my eyes at his family history, because I know he’s sorrier than a cougar that fell off Noah’s ark, but I meet him in Newport, which is where my ancestors came in on horseback, so my Grandpa says when he’s spitting tobacco, and the juice falls all over the porch so bad the steps is a shit-brown creek. So, I catch a good look at DaMutt because I’m sipping my Sunkist Orange slow-like, and I’m hornier than my Daddy when he’s on unemployment, because I just had one of those Brazilian waxes across the river, and my pussy’s hotter than a roasting pig.

Weeelllll…I take one look at DaMutt falling about, and I know he's never struck a lick at nothin. But I’m hungrier than a dying baby on the tit, and we’re aiming to pick up a dozen White Castles, but we git there, and let me tell you, that meat’s ruint.

Y’all, -- git this…his shit-brown Hyundai totally ain’t working right because some lowlife soaped the windows so we couldn’t see nothing better than a semi on the downhill runoff in a blizzard at sunset. Then the car starts blowing smoke, and I’m fixin’ to get a new monarch butterfly tattoo on my belly like my cousin’s, and the reason I hate it later is because I’m burning through those supersize bags of generic Lucky Charms, which you can shake and make an instrument out of for the family bluegrass band, and my belly is growing so much Grandma took me and my first cousin removed to the clinic last week. Holy Mary mother of God, soon that tat is going to look like one of them pterodactyls we learned about at the grammar school. But I don’t believe in them dinosaurs, because once, my Aunt Jewel threw me in the bathtub, and the neighbor Sally called the 241-KIDS line ‘cause I almost drowned, but my Aunt Jewel baptized me right then and there, wrapped me up in a quilt, and then taught me all about Jesus and creation, and Sally, Aunt Jewel, and the whole family torched our old couch in the burn pit, and we fired up the barbecue, and Daddy played his banjo, and we was singin’ ‘til sunrise.

Anyways, Lord, by then, the Hyundai is on fire, so I tear on over to the dealership by myself, because my man is off in the recording studio, so he says, but really, he’s ain’t doing nothing but swallowing pills and playing video games, and right about then, you know I want to tan his hide, so, Holy Moses, I decide to hit Wal-Mart and look for some Draino for my brother, the best plumber in town, but I get lost down by the Check ‘n Go because the flames are blocking my view, and then I come upon some holler I ain’t never seen before, and y’all, no lie, it’s rough on those hills. You can’t even get a four-wheeler in there.

But me and my sisters never stopped at nothin’. Land no.

Praise the Holy Spirit, I finally find the dealership, and on the way in, I hit this mountain curb, and the car goes sideways, like a jackhammer ride at the county fair, and I hear this like “pop, pop, pop” and I ain’t talking Rice Krispies, but I barrel race into a parking space like it’s an everyday thang, and I get out of the car and look back at it, which takes a while since I have my sister’s crop top on, when I realize that the Hyundai is leaning like the outhouse during a twister, and I know my man might make me listen to Phil Collins mixes for the rest of my hard-earned days if I don’t get to fixin’ it. Right then, Bob, my Daddy’s friend from preschool, helps me check in while some hairspray lady from the westside tells me everything will smooth out like a flat iron, so I stick my tongue down her throat in the bathroom, but no lie, she is totally the icebox type, and when she pulls back, I say, “Ma’am, you’re crazier than a best bug.” While we’re smoking Kentucky’s Best shorts, I fire up some Alabama on my phone, and everyone in the whole place is impressed by my barn dance, so they give me the employee discount, and then service writer Bob wants to hit me, so we throw down right there in the parts department, and it’s one prize winning pony show, and we git ‘er done.

But later, feeling guiltier than a dog who lifted his leg on Mamaw’s party dress, I make a gum of everything. I go and tell my man the whole story fresh out of Bob’s bed. And after, my man takes a spell, and I think he might give me a good lickin’, and I think, I’ll be damned if I try to knock down that hornet’s nest again.

I ain’t tellin’ tall stories. I’m getting to the whole point of this right here and now – that Mutt’s never gonna rope this calf, and y’all, now I’m single, about to die like a spinster, hail Jesus.

Weelllll, I’ll beee.

Name: MelonHoneyDewYou
Sex: All woman
Age: 29
Body Type: voluptuous
Hair: Red, blonde, black
Eyes: green or brown contacts
Piercings/Tattoos: Land yes
Interested in: Men, Women, country music, broncos, cricks, bluegrass, eyebrows, eyelashes, rolling tobacco, Country Buffet, Dairy Queen, Weight Watchers
Career: graveyard landscaping
Religion: Christian
Other interests: skinny men with snakes, food, piercing my cheeks, Marilyn Monroe, horror films, vintage dresses, rockabilly, skulls, shootin’ squirrels

I ain’t lyin. ‘Nuther thang…don’t pluck out all my eyebrows lady at the salon I’m goin’ ta kill you beeotch.

MelonHoneyDewYou

-- C.A. MacConnell