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.

She dreamt she was back in High School. She had arrived late for class and was being read the Riot Act by her homeroom teacher.

“That if any persons to the number of twelve or more, being unlawfully, riotously, and tumultuously assembled together, to the disturbance of the publick peace, at any time after the last day of July in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and fifteen, and being required or commanded by any one or more justice or justices of the peace, or by the sheriff of the county, or his under-sheriff, or by the mayor, bailiff or bailiffs, or other head-officer, or justice of the peace of any city or town corporate, where such assembly shall be, by proclamation to be made in the King’s name, in the form herin after directed, to disperse themselves, and peaceably to depart to their habitations, or to their lawful business, shall, to the number of twelve or more (notwithstanding such proclamation made) unlawfully, riotously, and tumultuously remain or continue together by the space of one hour after such command or request made by proclamation, that then such continuing together to the number of twelve or more, after such command or request made by proclamation, shall be adjudged felony without benefit of clergy…” Bela’s teacher said.

“But…” Bela attempted to interject.
—
Meanwhile back in the garage, Edwood, Woeisme, and Something stood in horror as they watched Jakob the Potato Beetle finish consuming the fried remains of his other selves. The quiet tranquility of the garage had been turned into something that was much less tranquil. The air smelled of Death. And Potatoes. Mostly potatoes. Really, if one were to measure the death smell to potato smell ratio in the air, it would probably be close to 30 to 70. Maybe 20 to 80.

As Jakob the Potato Beetle finished himself, he grew to gigantic proportions.

“Maybe we should look for Jakob’s other selves at the mall, come on kids.” Edwood said as he pushed Woeisme and Something out the door.

“But Dad…” Woeisme attempted to interject (like mother, like daughter.)
—
Back in the Dreamworld, Bela was still getting the Riot Act:
“…and it is hereby declared, That this act shall extend to all places for religious worship, in that part of Great Britain called Scotland, which are tolerated by law, and where his majesty King George, the prince and princess of Wales, and their issue, are prayed for in express words. And what do you have to say to that young lady?” Bela’s teacher, Mr. Cheese asked.

“I’m sorry I’m late Mr. Cheese,” Bela said, “I didn’t expect a kind of Spanish Inquisition.”
—
Meanwhile in Alaska, Sarah Palin sat bolt upright in bed and screamed, “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!” before quickly falling into obscurity.
—
At the mall, Edwood left the kids at Chucky Cheese’s, and went to the Hot Topic to look at pants.

Most of the pants were either too tight, or else too baggy and full of chains and zippers.

“Excuse me miss, but do you have any pants that someone with self esteem would wear?” Edwood asked the young lady who was behind the counter, way too much eyeliner, and five pounds of facial piercings.

“Twy nest doe,” she replied.

“What?” Edwood asked.

“Ness doe,” the clerk said pointing to the wall.

“I’m sorry, what?” Edwood asked.

“Go ness doe. Dey half pans,” the clerk said slowly while pointing to the wall and Edwood’s pants.
—
“So how should we find Jakob’s other selves?” Something asked Woeisme.

“Whheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,” screeched Woeisme from atop her horsie on the carousal.

“Sigh,” sighed Something as he realized letting Woeisme have half his tokens was a really bad idea.
—
In the garage Jakob the Potato Bug, having sated the first of his primal desires, decided to fulfill his second primal need. He scuttled around looking for Bela or Woeisme, but seeing as how this is a G rated story and not something out of the letter-column of  “Creepy Bášŧárd Monthly”, couldn’t find either one, so he fell asleep and dreamed.
—
Edwood stood in front of the store next to Hot Topic (having been pushed there by the clerk who had grown wary of dealing with him.)

It looked…off.

But a desire for pants overrode what little common sense he may have possessed, and he crossed the threshold.
—
Something and Woeisme approached the Hot Topic. Woeisme’s arms were full of a menagerie of stuffed animals she had won at Skeeball. Something carried the rest.

“So we’re agreed then, we find Dad and see if he has a better plan,” Something asked his sister.

“I can feel my hair grow!” Woeisme yelled. Something knew it was a bad idea to let her eat all those Pixie Sticks.

“Please calm down. We have to find…DAD!” Something shouted as he saw Edwood cross the threshold. But it was too late: all hope was lost, the quest was finished, evil had won, game over man. Game. Over.

Edwood had fallen into the Gap.