Edwood laughed. “Well, were-velociraptor? Let’s hear you squawk! Belt out this pretty little tune, and our dilemma will be solved!”
Jakob looked even more chagrined.
Solanum, Vlad, and Woeisme looked at him, expectantly.
“Wait!” cried Bela, “We need a test subject!” She reached into her purse, and produced a large Russet potato. Edwood raised an eyebrow.
“What?” Bela asked, “I always carry at least one baking potato on my person at all times.” She placed the potato on the table, and gave it a little pat.
Jakob cleared his throat, and began to sing. To everyone’s great surprise, his voice was smooth and sultry. “Wolves, oh wolves, oh can’t you see? Ain’t no wolf can sing like me — and if it could then I suppose he belongs in Idaho.” Surely, no potato could resist that serenade.
A hush fell over the group, as they waited for the potato to… do something. Anything. But the potato did nothing.
“You lying son of a spud!” shrieked Woeisme, grabbing and brandishing a vegetable peeler, “I grow tired of your games and your false promises! If you don’t tell us the real secret right now, I am going to peel you like a Yukon Gold and cut you into French fries!”
“I don’t understand,” said Solanum, a hint of desperation in his voice. “This is the secret. It’s the singing, Keep singing!”
Jakob continued to sing, “Wolves, oh wolves, oh can’t you see? Ain’t no wolf can sing like me …” But the potato didn’t so much as twitch.
“Th-this is all wrong,” stammered Solanum, “something is wrong! That potato must be dead, or defective!” He began to tremble slightly, and reached for the potato.
“Don’t touch!” cried Bela, slapping his hand away.
“Easy, Bela,” cooed Edwood, patting her arm. “Don’t get too excited. You know it’s not good for you. Why don’t you let the men handle this, hm?”
“Oh, because you’ve been doing a wonderful job this far,” replied Bela, jerking her arm away. “Fine. I’ll leave it to you. But that’s my potato, and if you want to continue Solanum’s little experiment, you’re going to have to find another one!” Bela scooped up the Russet with both hands, wrapped it carefully in a handkerchief, and put it back in her purse. Then, she turned and walked toward the door.
“We can use the effigy,” said Edwood, “just keep singing, Jakob!”
Jakob’s soulful notes faded into the background as Bela stormed out the door, and into the back garden. She sat on a stump near the barren potato patch, and opened her purse. There, swaddled in its linen handkerchief, was the Russet. She took it from her purse, and gently unwrapped it. “Don’t worry,” she said, patting the potato, “we’ll figure this out,” and she began to hum the tune, “Idaho.”
As Bela hummed, she noticed something strange: the potato in her hands was beginning to quiver, ever so slightly. She stopped, and the potato ceased to move. She began again, and the Russet resumed its subtle vibration. Bela caught her breath, as an idea took root in her mind… she began to softly sing the lyrics Jakob had sung to the potato only minutes before: “Wolves, oh wolves, oh can’t you see? Ain’t no wolf can sing like me — and if it could then I suppose he belongs in Idaho.”
Bela’s voice was not beautiful, but she managed to sing the words without tripping over her tongue. And slowly, ever so slowly, the Russet began to sprout…
• 
Once you had Bela start to sing “Idaho,” I was waiting for some sort of “I da Ho” joke.
I am not sure wether I admire your restraint, or mourn the loss of a good Ho joke.
That was a very well done chapter, I actually liked how Bela stormed off and did something proactive while the men were bickering amongst themselves.