Friday, November 9, 2018

9 november

Now, breakfast.

It would be okay to out and pick up something to eat, but he didn’t really fancy the idea of dining out on his own. Fancy? Come on now. That British influence that had twisted into his morning seemed to be lingering. Malingering? Probably not. Fancy that. Nothing fancy, just a baked potato.

That’s what he thought when he opened his fridge, anyway. There was not, in fact, a baked potato in his fridge, let alone a fancy one, but there was a potato. Indeed there were four potatoes -- and no small potatoes, either. These were the robust and no doubt chemically generated mega-sized potatoes that were used in giant photos spread across the sides of grocery delivery trucks. The kind that appeared on spoofy magnets in Idaho that weren’t so much spoofy as both stereotypical and accurate. The models that starred in commercials paired with a golden and gleaming slab of butter that used to be a pat but got carried away.

He often kept potatoes in his fridge, despite a vague awareness that they didn’t really need to be in there. He liked the idea of a cold cellar, but he didn’t have one, so the fridge generally made do. He’d found, though, that keeping potatoes -- or anything else, for that matter -- in the lower drawers of the fridge more or less made them invisible. Someone more organized would keep an inventory of some kind on the fridge itself to ensure that nothing ended up lost, stolen, or strayed (like James James Morrison’s mother, who seemed to have been mislaid (A. A. Milne citation along there somewhere better worked in than a parenthetical (or not))). Or, someone more sensible might just remember what he put in the fridge in the first place and, therefore, what had not yet come out. Being neither of these seemingly fine fellows of the organized or sensible variety, though, he put nothing in the drawers anymore. Which is how these potatoes ended up on the top shelf, clear and prominent and available.

Those are some top shelf potatoes! he told himself.

You’re a top shelf potato! he told himself

Eat me! said a potato.

No comments: