Farewell, Watermelon Rock!
A mere two or three days after you mysteriously appeared on the Bishop Peak trail — poof! — you were gone, no match for a crew of four park rangers armed with wire brushes, cleaning solution and a whole lot of elbow grease.
Stripped of your bright red and green paint, you are back to your natural earth tone, which — with apologies to the Sierra Club — now seems drab and lifeless with the personality of, well, a rock.
We knew it was fruitless — in San Luis Obipso, only utility boxes and giant cow statues are deemed proper canvases for outdoor art — but we hoped you might be allowed to stick around at least as long as a Christo installation. Or, given your color scheme, maybe until Christmas?
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You were, however, deemed a crime against nature, and your creators demonized as lawbreakers.
Your passing is water (melon) under the bridge now, but for putting a smile on so many faces in this fifth-happiest town in the nation, we commemorate your all-too-brief life with a glittering red-and-green rindstone bouquet.