Edwood’s eyebrow raised almost imperceptibly, but everyone happened to be blinking at that precise moment, so his act was, in all actuality, imperceived. He stabbed at his potato (or was it potatoe?)-made voodoo doll of Jakob. He had done many things to the spud… effigy… spudigy thing that he had secretly kept in his pants since chapter fourteen. Over the course of the past few days, he had molded it into many shapes, including his favorite failed politicians, Michael Dukakis and Dan Quayle, and a potato bug. And have you ever seen a potato bug? Those things are disgusting. My sister once found one in her shoe when we were kids. I think it scarred her for life. Anyway, Edwood even molded the spud into a snaggle-toothed Shark Boy at one point. But for now, since no one in the Gap seemed to be fawning over his perfectly-coiffed beauty, or even approached him to see if he needed assistance, he was content to jab a perfectly-formed finger into the eye of what now looked like normal old Jakob.
Category: Potato Moon
POTATO MOON, Part 76: “A Short Break” by Jeff Suess
An orange Ford Mustang GT skid to an abrupt stop before the building entrance, then impatiently revved its engine. To be clear, it wasn’t Stan, the kid in the driver’s seat, who was impatient, it was the car. Stan had his palms clutched against his ears but even the radio blaring ’N Sync could not drown out the incessant exposition emanating from the backseat.
“Then Edwood tried to get away from me,” Bela continued ceaselessly, “but I followed him across the country—”
“We’re here,” Stan interrupted with what Bela detected was a sharp tone.
“But I haven’t even gotten all the way through Book Two yet,” she said, pushing the front seat forward so she could squeeze out.
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POTATO MOON, Part 75: “More Than Meets The Eyes” by Jane Hidell
Bela tried to keep up with the strange little man, but she felt way too out of her element here. For all of the strange characters that she had come across in the last few days, this was the first time she truly felt like she had to *think* about what was going on.
And she didn’t like it.
Plus, there was far too much going on; she could already feel the narrative drifting away from her.
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POTATO MOON, Part 74: “Who Hashes the Hash-Browns?” by Jeff “Wulff” Byrne
Bela woke suddenly, finding herself abandoned in the hall, and miffed that everyone who should have been standing around adoring her had, in fact, abandoned her instead of adoring her.
“Well that’s just great,” she huffed in a huff. “How will I pitch the rest of this story if everyone leaves me and I don’t know what’s going on?” she whined in her whiny voice.
She was so distressed by this turn of events, the hairs on her arms and legs (she hadn’t seen a leg-razor since the story started) began to stand on end. Then the hair on top of her head began to spike outward. She became aware of a taste in her mouth, like touching her tongue to a 9-volt battery. She pulled a 9-volt battery from her pocket and touched it to her tongue, and decided that that was indeed the taste.
The air began to crackle with blue electrical discharges. There was a bright blue flash as a ball of blue energy popped into being, then shattered into tiny blue fragments, which shattered again when they hit the floor into tiny blue powder. Where the ball had momentarily been, there was now a man. He was wearing a dark brown trench-coat, a dark brown short-brimmed fedora, and a potato-hued mask with many brown spots covered his face. There seemed to be no pattern to the spots. In fact, as she stared at them , she realized that they were moving across the surface of the mask.
The man seemed to look at her (she couldn’t be sure because she couldn’t see his eyes through the mask but she was there so what else could he want to look at), then turned his head as if to survey his surroundings. “Hrm,” he muttered. Bela began to ask him who he was and if he wanted to adore her too, when the man began speaking aloud to himself.
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POTATO MOON, Part 73: “The Mating Habits of the North American Potato Beetle” by Matt Dow
Jakob the Potato Beetle scuttled towards the fried forms of his other selves (which had been carelessly left behind by a certain time traveler whom we can’t name for various legal reasons,) and proceeded to devour them, with ketchup.
—
Meanwhile in the hall where she had been left by fate (or a certain contributor whom we can’t name for various legal reasons,) Bela dreamed.
POTATO MOON, Part 72, “Shining Brightly” by Adrian J. Watts
Irony shook his head, politely declining Bela’s offer, and stepped into the brightly lit room. The fluorescent lights set into the ceiling shone brightly, and the phospherescent photons they emitted lit lightly upon Edwood, Bela and Something’s delicate features. And Jakob’s, too. Probably.
Irony stared for a long time at Bela’s checker-proffering form and glared meaningfully at Something in a way only an abstract entity can.
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POTATO MOON, Part 71: “Decisions” by Alison Aspasia
NOTE FROM PAD: Sorry for the delay, Potato Tots (my freshly coined name for fans of the story, since “Potato Moonies” has unfortunate connotations.) It was entirely on my end; Alison turned in her contribution right on time. I’ve been pretty brain fried because of Comicon. I’ll tell you all about it shortly.
“You what?” Jakob asked from the floor. “But aren’t they me? You baked me?”
“Well you were half-baked already,” Bela said unsympathetically,
walking over to where the doctor was looking awkwardly into his Oven.
Edwood followed.
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