Regular Potato

potatoThe other day I was just a regular potato. The cook was ready to fry me up along with all the other spuds, but before he could, the Health Department came to close down the restaurant. The cook canceled the orders and cried.

He looked up to the ceiling and made a wish for someone to help.

I guess that’s why I grew arms and legs–to help the cook.

With arms and legs I was able to fill out all the necessary paperwork and brought the cook’s case before the Health Department.

It looks like our appeal worked. I saved the restaurant.

Now I get to torture the eggs.

*A little boy I tutor drew the picture. I wrote the words. It’s been my most satisfying artistic collaboration in years.