I wasn’t looking for anything serious when I stumbled on it. I was just scrolling through Reddit, minding my own business while reheating some leftover noodles, when this bizarre image popped up and completely threw off my night. It was a watermelon—but not like any watermelon I’ve seen.

This one had white foam oozing out of it, almost like someone had pumped it full of shaving cream for a prank. I showed it to my husband, and even he was stunned. We both tried to figure out what was going on, but it didn’t make any sense. Then I read the caption, and it got even weirder. The person explained that they had left a Costco watermelon sitting on the counter and eventually it started foaming. A quick Google search told them that it might explode, so they sealed it in a bag and tossed it in the outdoor trash. The next morning? Boom. It exploded. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the aftermath involved maggots.

Yes, actual maggots. That was all I needed to go full panic mode. I immediately glanced over at my own watermelon sitting on the kitchen counter like it might detonate at any second. Who knew this was even possible? Apparently, under the right (or wrong) conditions, a watermelon can ferment from the inside. If it gets warm, especially if it’s already a bit bruised or overripe, bacteria can sneak in and start fermenting all those natural sugars. The bacteria convert sugar into gas, and as that gas builds up, pressure increases inside the melon until it bursts—sometimes violently. I never imagined I’d have to treat a watermelon like a ticking time bomb, but here we are. The takeaway was clear: if your watermelon starts foaming, don’t touch it.

Don’t cut off the weird part and pretend it’s fine. This isn’t the time to channel your inner chef. At that point, it’s beyond redemption. It’s officially bad news. What you should do instead is treat it like it’s radioactive. Get a thick, sturdy bag—none of that flimsy stuff—and seal it up carefully. Try not to jostle it too much; the last thing you want is to have a fruit explosion in your hands. Then take it outside and get rid of it. Mentally say goodbye. Walk away. And never look back. Since that post, I’ve developed a minor obsession with inspecting every watermelon like I’m interviewing it for a high-stakes job. I tap it to check for a hollow sound. I look closely for any blemishes, soft spots, or odd discoloration. If it feels squishy or looks bruised, it’s not coming home with me. No exceptions. Once I do buy one, it goes straight into the fridge—no more letting it lounge on the counter because it looks pretty or summery.

Warm melons are mold’s best friend, and I’m not about to risk it. I’ve also changed how quickly I eat them. I used to let them sit around for several days before cutting in, but not anymore. Now, the countdown begins the moment I get home. And I’ve learned that dropping a watermelon, even just a little bump, can bruise it internally and make it more likely to go bad fast. So yes, I now treat watermelons like they’re fragile glass babies full of secrets. After that Reddit post, I had to check the one in my fridge. I opened the door like I was in a horror movie, cautiously reached in, and tapped it like, “Hey, you still with us?” No foam, no odd smell, no cracks—thankfully. But I couldn’t stop picturing what it would be like to wake up in the middle of the night to a loud pop and find my cat covered in watermelon guts. So now this is just my reality. I’ve become a person who’s slightly afraid of melons. Who knew that something as innocent as fruit could hold such chaos? The moral of the story is this: if your watermelon starts foaming, don’t ask questions. Don’t take chances. Just get rid of it. Because fruit, under no circumstances, should ever explode. And yet, somehow, that’s where we are now. Stay safe out there. Watch your produce.