Once upon a time, there was a potato. His name was Spud,
because his parents have no imagination and they're proud of it. He was
approaching the age where growing young potatoes were expected to get a job and
help pay the bills and support their mothers' cocaine addictions.
So his dad, Mr
Lumptickle to you, came into his room to have a spud-to-spud talk.
Mr Lumptickle said to
his son, 'Spud, it's time you started earning some cash. Times are hard, I've
tried my best to secure a job for you, but no luck. You're going to have to go
out into the seedy soily world with one suitcase. Send the money you earn back
here so your mother can buy food for our little seed potatoes.'
Spud packed his
one suitcase with all his worldly possessions, such as soil, and began his life. But even after days of searching, he couldn't find a job anywhere.
So he went to a
potato beauty spa and got himself peeled so he would have the creamy complexion
of a woman. They did a full make up for him and he bought some heels and went
and stood on a street corner.
Just when life seemed
at its lowest point, Spud's life took a lucky turn.
For at that very
moment, he found a shiny new penny on the ground. "This is it," he
thought, "the moment my life turns around. I'm not going to be a stripper
harlot the rest of my life! I'm gonna be someone!"
He went to
McDonald's and begged the manager for a job. The manager finally gave in,
just because he had a dog once that looked like Spud. "All right, boy.
Tell you what, you can have a job cleaning out the ears of the french fry guy.
He's got some... medical... thing. Here's your Q tip."
So Spud set to it. He wasn't one to turn
his nose at dirty work.
Spud soon learnt that
he could sell the French ear wax on the market as Le Floor Polish for £5.99 a
tin.
This was enough money
for Spud to live off while sending the surplus home to his dear mother.
Potatoes don't have very high living costs.
One day, Spud was
clearing out the ears as normal, when he heard a voice. It seemed to be
coming from the ear.
'Better get some more
milk from the shop after work,' it seemed to be saying.
It occurred to Spud that he'd cleared out so much earwax by now that he'd unplugged the channel
between the French guy's ear and his mind. He could hear the French guy's
thoughts, which for some reason were in perfect English.
Spud wasn't quite
ready to reveal this information to anyone. He was an opportunist and he wanted to wait and see how he could benefit from this anomaly.
Over the next few
days, he had no interesting thoughts. Mostly really stereotypical Frenchman
thoughts, like "Auh-hau-hau!" and "I wish I were wearing a beret
and smoking a cigarette in the most snooty fashion possible right now." But Wednesday was
very different. Very different indeed.
"The time has
come. When we close today, right when Amanda bends down to complete her
customary 4:33 shoe tying, I'll casually reach over and take the key to the
vault. Because we have a vault here that has a lot of money in it at this
McDonald's. When she gets back up, it'll be gone and she'll be blamed for
taking it. Then I'll use said key to steal said money and flee said country.
Wait, I didn't say what country I was in. Unsaid country, then. And in case
anyone's listening and missed part of this plot, I'll repeat it again in a
little while. Damn, I love thinking in complete sentences."
"Sacre
Dieu!" thought Spud Frenchfully. "I've gotta do something!"
Spud's mind worked
fitfully. As fast as a potato's
mind had ever worked before.
"A-ha!" he
thought, "I've got it!"
Spud hurled himself
into the potato slicer and was cut into about 16 chips, which spilled out onto
the floor, creating a banana skin like effect so making Amanda slip up, so she
was unable to complete her customary 4:33 shoe tying and instead lay on the
floor saying 'owwwwwwww!' The French guy yelled "Je suis desolee!"
He
tried to steal the key anyway, just for the hell of it, but Spud, who was now
not one Spud but 16 Spuds, performed the same stunt as on Amanda. The French
guy fell over 'Owww! Mon bra!!!' he screamed as he hit his funny bone. 'Ha,'
thought Spud. 'He said bra.'
In this way, Spud was
awarded a medal for heroic potato feats.
And so he returned
home in glory, and all the little potato seedlings rushed out to hug him. There
was plenty of Spud to go around, since he was now in 16 pieces, so they were
not disappointed.
The traditional potato
drink, vodka, was handed around, and a very merry time was had by all.
The End
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