[A diminutive man with a clipboard stands outside the door of a farmhouse. He hesitantly reaches out and knocks on the door. After a few seconds of fidgeting, he stands up straight as the door opens, revealing tall, buxom lady in overalls.]

LADY: Yes?

MAN: Oh-aah, erm, terribly sorry to bother you, ma’am, but I represent the county health department and we’ve been tasked with, um… conducting a study on — this is so embarrassing… on area women’s… bosoms…

LADY: I’m sorry, I didn’t get that last bit?

MAN: Sorry. On, you know… your… b… breasts…

LADY: Sorry, you’re mumbling with that la–

MAN: Your melons, madam! (gasps) Oh, dear. Please forgive me! This just isn’t what I thought I’d be doing with the department and it feels so wrong and we have a female worker but–

LADY: Oh, my melons! Nothing wrong with asking about them. They’re huge!

MAN: But she’s sick so I have to — oh. Well, um, th-that’s not really a question, you know, but–

LADY: But why not? My husband’s just so proud of ’em, he has me take ’em out for people every chance he gets! You wanna gander?

MAN: NO! I — that is not necessary, madam, please!— I mean, thank you — er… (quickly stares down at the clipboard) Um… how long would you say you keep them, erm… constrained?

LADY: Constrained? Well, I do keep ’em covered all during the day. It’s just the right thing ta do, you know.

MAN: Certainly, madam.

LADY: But they gotta breathe, too, so every night I just whip it all off and let those babies loose to the air!

MAN: O-oh…

LADY: ‘Course, it’s been getting a little colder these nights so they’re positively dripping with dew by the time I wake up.

MAN: Eh?

LADY: But I just run outside and give ’em a big ol’ shake ‘ta dry ’em off!

MAN: Ah!

LADY: Keeps ’em firm. And then I wave to the neighbor! They’re always watchin’ out their kitchen window. Get a real kick outta the whole spectacle, but they’re gettin’ old so I don’t mind humorin’ them one bit.

MAN: …Heaven help me… (goes back to the clipboard) Do you ever have any complaints about their weight?

LADY: Oh, sometimes people’ll gripe that they’re too much, but I tell ’em they’re always gonna need two hands ta lift one’a mine and that’s the way it’s always gonna be!

MAN: T-two — wait! You let them touch your–

LADY: ‘Course I do! That’s the only way ta know they’re the real deal, don’tcha know! Some people think ya gotta knock on ’em too, but that’s just ridiculous. Where’s that gonna get ya?

MAN: I… (takes a deep breath) So even with the, um, weight… there’s no pain? No fatigue?

LADY: (laughs) Look, sir. You’re a real nice guy an’ all but I can tell you’ve never handled somethin’ like these in your life.

MAN: I—now look here, I have nothing to do with this–

LADY: Aw, nothin’ ta be ashamed about, sugar! But I’ve lugged these things around day in and day out for nearly my whole life now! They’re like nothin’ to me!

MAN: Madam! I doubt other women would agree!

LADY: Yeah, fair, fair. I know it’s different in different areas. Tend to be smaller in Europe, ‘course. An’ ya hear in Japan they’re makin’ ’em square now?

MAN: What?? That’s absurd!

LADY: I know! Tell me about it! But here in America, as long as there’s room ta grow and God-given sunshine, there’s only one size we’ll accept ’em here: enormous.

MAN: Madam, please! It shouldn’t matter to other women how big theirs are.

LADY: It sure as spit should! Why, I never got my man ta bat an eye at me ’til I got ’em big as his head!

MAN: I say, this has got to–

LADY: You just send those poor, weak little city gals over here. I guarantee ya within a week I’ll have ’em hoistin’ them high an’ proud!

MAN: That’s IT! (throws his clipboard down) No government benefits are worth this… this freakishness. I’m going right back to the commissioner and telling him I QUIT! Good day!

[As he stalks off, his face beet red, the lady’s husband walks up behind her.]

HUSBAND: Who was that, now?

LADY: Don’t know. Some guy askin’ questions ’bout our watermelon patch.

HUSBAND: Huh. Strange what floats some people’s boats, I guess.