Tater Tot

Written 2006 *This was an assignment for a college writing workshop, where we had to look at a wierd postcard and then write a story about it. My postcard had a potato on it with tater tots for legs and a curly fry for hair, and thus, a story was born...*

     Farmer Johnson had spent many years in the agricultural business, and he grew all manner of vegetables, but this year's crop proved to be most unusual. It was a routine Tuesday; he was watering his gardens, checking to see which vegetables were ripe, and harvesting the ones that were ready. When he arrived at the potato patch, he noticed that one tiny potato was sticking halfway out of the ground. "Damned raccoons," he muttered, and he stooped to try to dislodge the little vegetable from the dirt. It was then that he heard a faint squeak. He paused, looking around for a field mouse or perhaps a stray kitten, then shook his head and reached again for the potato. He heard it again, this time a bit louder, and it seemed quite impossible, but he thought the noise might be coming from the trapped vegetable. You old coot, he thought, you have lost all your marbles. But he scratched his head and squatted closer. What he heard next nearly gave him a heart attack, and he lost his balance and fell to the ground in shock.

     "Help!" squealed the small potato. "I can't breathe!"

     Johnson's eyes widened. Could the heat be getting to him? Mouth gaping, brow furrowed, he stared down at the potato. 

     "Um...did you just talk to me?" he asked very softly.

     "I said I can't breathe," the potato gasped, "Now could you please get me out of here?"

     "Good lord," Johnson muttered. What if one of his neighbors saw him talking -- to a vegetable? He paused, cringing, and then hissed, "How are you talking to me?"

     "GET ME OUT, and THEN we'll talk!" it yelled back. Johnson covered his face with his hands and sheepishly peeked through his fingers. Not only was part of his crop talking to him, now it was barking orders. Mortified, however, at the thought of someone seeing this strange event, he obeyed the small potato's command. Quickly he reached down, yanked it out of the ground, and ran like crazy for the house, not stopping until the side door was locked, and he was safe in the kitchen.

     "Thanks" the potato wheezed as Johnson carefully put it on the kitchen table. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

     Johnson's face was all screwed up in an expression of confusion and worry. Now that he could see its entire body, he realized that the ability to speak was not the only strange thing about this vegetable. It had legs: short, golden, and crispy, like someone had glued tater tots to its base. There was also, dare he admit it, a curly fry protruding from its top. What the hell is going on here, he wondered. 

     "How did...why is...wh-where d-did you c-come from?" he stuttered. 

     "The ground. Duh," it answered flatly. 

     "No, I mean, how can you talk? You're a potato! But you don't look like a potato. Not one I've ever seen. I mean, I've seen strange vegetables, but--"

     "I need a diaper," it interrupted. 

     "A DIAPER? Are you serious? I don't have any diapers! Especially not potato diapers...WAIT! What the hell?" The potato proceeded to pee all over the kitchen table. 

     "I told you I needed a diaper," it snorted.

     "I didn't know potatoes peed," the farmer said, baffled.

     "Well I guess you do now."

     So the farmer gathered a couple of towels and cleaned up the mess. The he quickly located a small dishrag and two safety pins to fashion a diaper for the insolent potato. 

     "You know, I just don't understand you people. Do you think you are the only ones who talk? Who go to the bathroom? Just what, exactly, is so hard to believe?" it ranted.

     The farmer didn't even know where to begin. He only shook his head. Just then, he heard a knock at the door behind him. Oh god, he thought, here we go. He turned, crept to the door, and peeked nervously through the peephole. There in front of him was his neighbor, old lady Smith. He held his breath and slowly opened the door. 

     "Hi there, Johnson! Wait, what's wrong? You look pale," she said.

     "Oh well...um...it's nothing really," he answered.

     "Nothing? Are you sure?"

     "Well, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

     "Try me."

     "Um, you see, in my garden, there was this potato. And he talked to me! And he has a curly fry growing from his head, and two tater tots for legs, and he peed on my kitchen table --"

     "What are you talking about? Johnson, are you alright? I can take you to the doctor--"

     "No, no. I knew you wouldn't believe me. Come here, I'll show you." With that he led her to the table, but he stopped cold. I don't understand, he thought. No curly fry, no tater tot legs...

     "Johnson, um, could I use your phone?"

     "Um...okay," he stammered. As soon as Old Lady Smith turned to leave the room, the potato again sprouted its legs and hair, and it grinned a mischievous grin. Johnson smiled. Now he could prove he wasn't crazy. He stepped closer and opened his mouth to speak, but the potato moved too quickly and spun in such a way that a large whisk lying beside him flew off the edge of the table and poked Old Lady Smith's behind. Just as quickly as before, the hair and legs disappeared, and a very stunned Old Lady Smith turned around to see a blushing Farmer Johnson and an ordinary potato.

     "Johnson? What on God's green earth--?"

     "Uh...well...see...it wouldn't do me any good to blame it on the potato, would it?" He stammered, watching her expression slowly change. She was smiling.

     "Oh Jim," she said sweetly.

     Johnson stood there dumbly, feeling as though someone had pummeled him. She isn't mad. She thinks I just poked her butt, and she isn't mad, he thought. Disoriented, he looked around the kitchen. He was still in his house, it was still Tuesday, and he was still himself. Old Lady Smith was still grinning like a school girl.

     "Did you just call me Jim? You never -- no one ever calls me Jim." She blushed and looked down at her feet.

     "Well, I guess I'm just flattered," she said gently, sounding more like a teenager in love than the old widow she was.

     "But I--"

     "You don't have to explain, Jim. We've known each other for years," she smiled, stepping closer and looking into his eyes.

     "Vera--" he started, but couldn't finish. At the sound of her first name, she threw her arms around his neck, and kissed away the rest of his sentence and any confusing thoughts he may have had about the small potato. He broke away, and they stared at each other. When he finally got up the nerve to speak, he remembered the tiny vegetable lying on his kitchen table.

     "So you don't think I'm crazy?"

     "What? No, I was flattered. I've been wondering for years when you'd make your move." she answered giddily. He blushed.

     "That's not what I meant. I mean, I do like you. I always have. But I meant the potato. The hair, the legs? You don't think I'm crazy?"

     "Oh that," she answered, a little disappointed. "I don't know, Jim. I mean, I didn't see anything. That doesn't mean--"

     "Right. I understand."

     There was another uncomfortable silence, and then they turned to look at the kitchen table. Old Lady Smith's hand quickly covered her mouth, and Johnson's eyes grew to the size of tennis balls. The potato was standing up on its tater tot legs, its curly fry hair was back where it should be, and it was smiling.

     "You two aren't crazy," it smiled proudly, "you're in love! You would be crazy if you thought potatoes were talking to you for no reason." The potato began to laugh. Johnson and Old Lady Smith gazed at each other in disbelief, then looked back at the potato, who continued. "And you have to admit," he paused for a hearty giggle, "it was pretty funny...that whisk!" He was shaking now, looking at Old Lady Smith. "Your face!" he pointed at her. Now she and Johnson looked confused, then they began to grin. Meanwhile the potato had amused himself quite thoroughly; his giggle became a guffaw, his guffaw a loud cackle, and his cackle then an incessant, screeching bellow of a laugh, until he shook all over and tears streamed down his face. Suddenly, his expression changed.

     "Oops," said the potato, "I need a new diaper."

Author's Note

Hope this made ya giggle...

Reviews

[Cole Spire]

giggle? oh my god no it didn't. i bust out laughing. i love the idea of a talking, of all things, potato!

That and the fact that it bluntly said "I need a diaper." I mean how great is that.

This was well thought out, the dialogue was amazing and it had just enough comedy to keep me from going "ok she's nuts". This was great, I hope you got an A on it.

a definite fave.

cole-

[Kaitlin W. Blaylock]

wow...that was...unique. I liked it, but it didn't reel me in. good effort though