Month: May 2009

Yukon Gold had only a few moments to consider his situation. He could still hear El Patata shouting, “Santora!” off in the distance, but he was a bit more concerned about the very loud “Moo” that sounded much closer — and much more threatening. Yukon Gold wasn’t sure what “Santora” meant, but the menace in the “Moo” was unmistakable. He turned, slowly, afraid of what was keeping him company in the otherwise deserted forest.

Continue Reading “POTATO MOON, Part 36: “Were, oh, were has Jakob Gone?” by Rhomylly Forbes” →

Upon Yukon Gold’s command, a pair of figures seemed to appear amongst the gathering as if out of thin air. Both were powerfully built black men with clean-shaven heads and impressively full and well-kept goatees. At first glance, one might have thought them twins, and one would have been right. But it wasn’t their skin color and grooming habits alone that would lead one to think that the pair had once been womb-mates. (I know, old joke, couldn’t resist.) The ridiculous nature of their garb helped hammer the fact home.

Both men were dressed in matching black khakis and beige turtleneck sweaters, with only one distinguishing feature between the two of them. In order to tell them apart, Yukon Gold had seen fit to have their names embroidered in dark brown letters across their chests. And even though Edwood, Something and Woeisme could plainly read the big block font, Yukon Gold still announced with a flourish, “Allow me to introduce you to Chip and Spud, my Home Fries!”

“Wait a minute,” the one called Chip said, “Your what?”

“Home Fries?” Spud interjected. “What the hëll’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well…um…it’s just that…” Yukon Gold sputtered. “It’s a play on words. You know, like how you people sometimes call each other homies? So I thought…”

“Whoa, you people?” Chip bellowed.

It was at that moment that Edwood quietly and without Yukon Gold’s notice, chucked a thumb over his sequined shoulder, thereby giving Something and Woeisme the universal sign for ‘Let’s-get-the-hëll-out-of-here-because-this-is-about-to-get-ugly’.

Continue Reading “POTATO MOON, Part 35: “The Back-Ups,” by Ronald Savage” →

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.

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

Note from PAD: Our contributors seem to be feeling their oats. The previous installment was 800 words and Allyn seems to have gone insane and produced over 2400. I’m being flexible about the length, but guys, seriously…feel free to stay within the recommended lengths.

“If you hear the sound of a slash,” Edwood said, passion nearly inflecting his voice “Run!”

No sooner had the last echo of his murmur faded then the darkness of the dismal yet infused with magic forest was slashed with a blood curdling SLASH!

Jakob bounded deep into the dark woods, focused as he was on Edwood’s advice to flee. His ears perked up, though, and he heard behind him SLASH, then SLASH again, and finally he heard a voice, deep and menacing, that chanted “Santora! Santora!”

What was this strange word? Jakob wondered. Was it Spanish? It sounded Spanish. He thought about a cute redhead he had seen in Spanish class many years ago. She had legs that went on forever, and her eyes were so deep and green he thought he might have been able to see infinity in them.

Continue Reading “POTATO MOON, Part 33: “Santora,” by Allyn Gibson” →