Back from vacation on the beaches of Cape Cod (not so much weird as lots of mini golf and ice cream), and as I was trying to catch up on the latest damned local news, I came across this story from NBC 30.

From the story …

Police found Jose Chevere’s bullet-riddled body along Zion Hill Road in Milford Sunday night, after people reported hearing gunshots.

Zion Hill Road in Milford?!! Zoinks!

Well, I think we all know that better as Melon Head Road … alleged home to the Melon Heads!

Ah, the Melon Heads. Since we launched this site back in January, we’ve been tracking what stories people are reading the most (you know, because we’re geeks like that), and outside of pieces associated with The Haunting in Connecticut, no article has been more consistently popular than our write-up on those bizarre folk alleged to live in the backwoods of the state.

For those of you unfamiliar with legend of the Melon Heads (and are too lazy to click the link), in a nutshell: The Melon Heads are supposed to be a band of big-headed mutant freaks who live surreptitiously on the edge of town, just off an abandoned and lonely road, looking to prey on unsuspecting interlopers. (Think Deliverance or The Hills Have Eyes.) Although as it turns out, the legend of the Melon Heads seems native to multiple towns around Connecticut including Shelton, Trumbull, Monroe, Seymour, Oxford, Southbury and of course, Milford, where I grew up and heard stories about midnight encounters with Melon Heads throughout my youth. I remember driving along Melon Head Road with my buddies more than once during my teenage years, trying to freak each other out.

Now throw a dead body into the Melon Head mix (shades of Stand By Me, right?), and no doubt the legend in Milford will grow even more, even if this story seems to be more about a drug deal gone awry more than anything involving inbred freaks feasting on regular folk.

Ironically, I was driving through Milford with my two sons about three weeks ago after having spent the day at Silver Sands State Park, home to Charles Island. I had been filling their impressionable heads with all the stories and legends associated with the island, so since we were in the damned mood, I made a detour and took them for a ride down Zion Hill Road, aka, Melon Head Road.

As I drove slowly along the infamous stretch of roadway, which winds through an undeveloped copse, it was fun to look in the rearview mirror and watch the kids peer out of the car windows and into the trees looking for signs of Melon Head inhabitation. We didn’t spot anything that afternoon … maybe we were just lucky?

I guess we’ll have to go back another time. After dark.