The old farmer tending his plot on the banks of the Chang Jiang River near Pukou glanced up as the big jet screamed low overhead heading for Nanjing Airport. He felt the fuel vapour on his bare arms at the same time as he smelt it and was thankful he had stubbed his cigarette out moments before.
The water melon at his feet burst. He thought it strange that since he had been using the forchlorfenuron fertilizer, every time a plane flew over his fruit burst open.
In the plane above the river the aging punk rock star gazed out the window. He was pleased that his dormant career had taken off again and they were once more touring. He smiled – China of all places. He couldn’t remember how they had ever came up with the name ‘Exploding Watermelons’ It was probably all those chemicals we took he mused.