I knew this would happen. It was inevitable. Right from the start. Bad luck has been my lot in life since the day I was born.
I’m a potato. Not a potato head you nincompoop, but a potato. A real potato. When we potatoes got dug up I was saved from getting sliced in half by the spade only by the skin of my teeth.
Let me tell you what abysmal thing happened to me. I was the first to be put into the potato bag. I thought, “Oh goody! Look at me! I’m first!” And then everyone else came after me. “The losers,” I thought. Mrs Sadie Brown did all the cooking and brought our bag home and put it in the pantry. Would you believe! She took out and used the potatoes at the top first. Off each potato went on an adventure and I was left grovelling at the bottom of the bag. Eventually I was the only potato not used. You have no idea the feelings of rejection a potato can have.
Next thing I noticed was that my skin had gone all wrinkly and my flesh soft and spongy. “Yuk!” said Mrs Sadie Brown as she threw me out the window. “That potato is good for nothing!”
This is true. This is the pits. She threw me out the window into the vegetable garden. I was left sitting among the unpleasant company of Tomato Jaune Flamme, Cucumbers Oriental Soo Yoh, and Lettuce Merveille des Quatre Saisons.
But guess what now? All the other potatoes got eaten. I’m sprouting.