POTATO MOON, Part 34: “People Change…?” by Day Al-Mohamed

Jakob realized he’d need a drink. Probably three or four before everything that had been going on this evening made sense.

The potato-man pounded a fist into an open hand and repeated its cry, “Santora!”

How’d they end up back in the woods? Weren’t they just in an alley near Forks? With a car smash-up? Could he be…El Patata?

Jakob knew where they were. He could her the noise of the noisome stream, Slough of Despond. They weren’t far from Sullen Manor. Feeling the need to run, his cowardice once again returning, but also remembering that Bela, his love, wasn’t far. Jakob tried to shapechange.

He had hoped for werewolf, but it wasn’t to be. After a few mintues where it was difficult to figure out who was more surprised, Jakob or El Patata, he shifted from werewolf to were-vampire to were-tree to were-Ford Prius to to were-goldfish to were-Joss Whedon and after a quick song and dance routine, ended up back as a were-cow.

“Moo.” Jakob swore. Thankfully though it was in another language so won’t impact the rating of this project, keeping it suitable for minors.

Unhappy about being ignored, El Patata shouted “Santora!” again, stepping forward aggressively. Or however aggressively a potato can be. El Patata was no Yukon Gold.

Remembering the story of Mendoza the bullfighter and the terrible thing done to him by El Patata and considering his current cow-like form Jakob, British accent and all, decided that running was probably a good option.

“I’ll save you!” Something shouted from the dark of the woods. Okay, it wasn’t Something, but Something’s mother, Bela. Tired of being left out of all the action, especially after Edwood and Jakob both PROMISED her that she was the center of the universe….and after reading a few feminist novels, and watching “Resident Evil” three times, Bela decided to trek out into the woods after the villains herself.

Not the big villains, like the Potato King or the Potato god (not that she was aware of the potato god as she was safely ensconced in the half-demolished remains of Sullen Manor when Edwood, Jakob, Something and Woeisme came across him) but at least she could go out and yell threatening things to the werewolves. Who she was sure were all snugly asleep in their beds after their Howl.

At the sound of Bela’s voice El Patata ran off into the woods, leaving a rather sheepish were-cow, Jakob behind.

“Jakob?”
“Moo.”
“Hey! Don’t use that language around me! And what’s with the British accent?”
“Santora! Santora!” The cry came from far deep in the woods…it was El Patata.
Jakob wished he had thumbs so he could Google what the heck, “Santora” meant.
“We must capture him!” declared Bela in a rare mood of…what is it heroism? Bravery? Feminism?

Jakob stared.
“Come on, Jakob!” Bela strode off into the dark woods.

“Moo.”
In the mean time, Edwood, realizing that Jakob had disappeared and there was no one to pay attention to his angst-ridden frowns, put his sequined jacket back on and went back to find Something and Woeisme.

Weren’t they supposed to be saving the world or doing something?

Edwood stopped that line of thinking before it went any further. Something was not into that.

Woeisme and Something, left to their own devices had traded limericks with Yukon Gold stalling for time to prevent him from completing his plan and having the Potatos (excuse me Potatoes) of the world rise up and mash everyone and everything.

“Hey. What’s up?” Asked Edwood, his tone neutral, cool.

“World domination” said Yukon Gold as he held up his Spud of Great Power.

“The young man from Nantucket,” said Something who was trying to remember how the limerick ended.

“Use the Force to obtain the One Onion Ring to rule them all.” Solanum, the potato (excuse me again, potatoe) god said as he reappeared and disappeared in a shower of dripping transfats, to make sure that everyone was on the same greasy page. Look, look Deux Deus ex Machina.

Woeisme, borrowing a greasy page from Edwood’s book sighed and rolled her eyes, “Look, Yukon, you can’t win. You can’t be a master villain without a minion. You just covered Mike Dukakis, your only henchman with slime from the outer cutaneous layer of an amylase based organism, that’s you, impregnated with a colloidal suspension of triglycerides, lactose and dairy proteins.”

She had listened when Doctor Smith explained it all to them and had been waiting for several paragraphs to say that.

Edwood nodded, cool and in control and struck an I-don’t-care-I-can-kick-your-potatoes-if-I-feel-like-it pose. He stuck another pose, and the sequined jacket sparkled. He didn’t want anyone to realize he had no idea what Woeisme had said. No one liked being shown up by an 8-year-old/16-year-old.
“Ah, but you haven’t met my back-up henchmen!” smirked Yukon Gold.